


Little Lord - The Soul Bond

by TheRealmGuardian



Series: Little Lord [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Arthurian, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, F/M, Lord Harry Potter, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Powerful Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 58,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29040684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealmGuardian/pseuds/TheRealmGuardian
Summary: The goblins have made the impossible. Meddle with the war. The best way to do it is to keep an old coot from fulfilling his plans. A mission they will assign to a young cursebreaker: Take Harry out of his family’s house before anybody else did.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Fred Weasley/George Weasley, Harry Potter/Charlie Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Sirius Black/Bill Weasley
Series: Little Lord [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130531
Comments: 59
Kudos: 335





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I’m a Harry/Charlie fan and loves to read a lot of stories about soulmates/soul bonds. Unfortunately, either they are posted incompletely or there are few stories about them at all. Which led me to write my own version of their soul bond love story.   
> I hope you enjoy reading it the way I did!

They all stood there waiting patiently before a massive clock. The high-ranked goblins are counting every strike of the longest hand until it reaches its intended point. A few seconds to go more and it will chime the hours, marking the start of an undeclared war.

On the other hand, in the anteroom of Potter Manor, the house-elves are on high alert. Their wide glassy eyes focused on the grandfather clock waiting for the goblin’s signal. Anytime today, they will meet again their little young master. They cleaned the rooms. They changed the sheets. After ten years of waiting and their new role is set to begin.

A few seconds more… 

_Five…_

_Four…_

_Three…_

_Two…_

_One…_

“It’s time.” The Goblin King, Ragnall, announced. He turned to his advisors who all nodded their approval. The chief goblin headed into the throne room where his royal court awaited. “Where’s the apprentice?” He asked them. “Send him in.”

Upon his command, the great iron doors are opened. There stood a young man, tall, well-built, and handsome, age no greater than twenty. His long red hair was tied up to a ponytail wearing an earring with a fang dangling from it. Two goblins remained behind him who seem like guards, escorting him as he marcheed to seek an audience before the high monarch.

“William Arthur Weasley.” He called out in his booming voice. “I have a special mission for you, wizard.”

The man looked back at him in bewilderment afterward.


	2. Meeting Bill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill is given a new task that will change his life forever…

Bill was proud of his job. He had only completed his two-year apprenticeship of cursebreaking in Egypt after graduating from Hogwarts. The young man was happy to be back for a new post. He got the order from the goblins last week, given only a few days off to settle in his new flat in Central London. They did not mention any more on the specifics except that he will be working for one of their biggest clients— well, that was what they’ve told him in the last letter they have sent regarding his assignment.

It will be a good change, he thought. Not to mention, the chance to get closer to his family and spend most of the weekends with them on dinners will be an added bonus. Bill's parents would be ecstatic to see him again, especially his mom. He could imagine Molly suffocating her oldest ‘baby boy’ as soon as he breaks to them the big news. Finally, her endless pleas to go home and be with the family more often have paid off.

It just didn’t occur to the young man that his new mission will be more bizarre than a cursebreaker’s job. He’s not even sure if looking after eleven-year-olds, let alone babysitting them is a part of the work description when he signed up for the post.

That is why a frown was plastered on Bill’s confused face the moment he stood in front of King Ragnall’s desk. The man was summoned to see him in his office that very same day.

“Well met, Mister Weasley.”

“Well met,” he responded, accepting the handshake the goblin had offered.

“I assume Greytooth had left you instructions about your new appointment?” His hands are shuffling a pile of papers on one of the shelves.

The creases on the red-hair’s brows have deepened. “No, all I was informed was that I will be reassigned here for a big-time post,” Bill said in the most honest way he could come up to his boss.

A hearty chuckle from the goblin has startled him. He wanted to find out what's going on but decided to save it for later. If his reaction has something to do with his task, then, he should probably find out sooner anyway.

Instead, he was handed a piece of a brown envelope that bore the Gringotts crest, the wizarding bank run by goblins. He looked at it carefully from each of its sides, his eyes widening at the sight of the name and the address that was enclosed on the back.

**_Mr. H. Potter_ **

_ The hut by the rock, the sea _

__

“The first part of your mission is to deliver this letter to our ‘client’,” He was told. “You will explain to him the reason why we are summoning him, and you will escort Mr. Potter here in my office immediately.” The goblin stood up and leaned forward, hands laid down heavily on top of the wooden surface with a stern glare glinting in his eyes. “This is important, Mister Weasley. Make sure to take him out of that shack before the strike of midnight or somebody else will. There are important matters we need to discuss with him.”

“Ye— yes sir.” A stammering Bill replied instinctively. Not that he’s quite unsure of his own words but the replications from what he’d learned haven’t left his senses yet. He shakes his head to clear his mind a bit until his boss’s instructions have finally kicked in. “I’ll be taking Mister Potter out of his location before midnight and send him here ASAP.” He reaffirmed. Glancing at his watch, the man was horrified to realize how much time he had left.

“And Mister Weasley…”

“Yes, sir?” He whirled back.

“This is a highly confidential case, should I remind you, eh?”

Bill froze at the warning. He almost forgot. This was one of those reasons that made his job a tough one compared to other cursebreakers’ tasks. The goblins wouldn't put their trust with anybody else out there, not in terms of dealing with matters of high confidential cases. Thus, with a diligent smile on his face, he nodded his head before taking his leave.

“Yes, sir. I will keep that in mind.” Bill reassured him. After saying it, the young man vanishes in a whip.

“Good luck, William. Bring him safe here.” Ragnall slumps his back in his chair with hopes in his grip.

-·-

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. A boy, no older than ten was curled up on the softest bit of floor in one corner under the thinnest, most ragged blanket he found somewhere. His skinny physique— with a thin face covered by an untidy mat of jet-black hair and knobbly knees could hardly survive such a condition for so long.

He couldn’t sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. His cousin’s snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of his watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told the boy he’d be eleven in forty minute’s time.

He laid and watched as his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

See, in the past few days, he’d been getting letters from someone unknown. He didn’t manage to figure out who it was because his uncle would rage and snatch those letters, burning them in the fireplace before they reached his grasps. It wasn’t as if he didn’t try really hard. In fact, the last time he attempted to send those letters to their house, they found themselves almost buried by thousands of envelopes coming from closely everywhere. His Uncle Vernon was damned furious that he decided to take him and the rest of the family to this dark and cold shack right in the middle of the sea. Dudley thought his dad had gone mad for dragging them to such a horrible location just to avoid whoever that crackpot old fool, he was mumbling all to himself sending them bloody ludicrous letters.

Thirty minutes to go. The boy heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn’t going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they get back that he’d be able to steal one somehow and find out what that letter is for or who it is from.

Twenty-five minutes more— perhaps he’d wake Dudley up, just to annoy him.

Twenty minutes… until…

“Hiya, Harry.”

_ Wait, what on earth’s happening?! _

He looked up, wide-eyed. A tall, red-haired man appeared in the shadows wearing a bright smile.

-·-

The boy rose to his feet and sprinted behind the wall. A red-headed stranger has shown up in the middle of the night, beaming, standing tall.

“Hey, don't be afraid. I won't hurt you.”

“...” There was no response from the kid at all.

A dead silence followed, except for the gust of strong winds outside and the occasional roaring thunder creaking through the blurry windows. Not to mention, the noise from Dudley's snores falling at a certain rhythm that's getting annoying as they listen to it more.

Harry could only care less about his cousin’s snores in the first place. He's more concerned about the genuine smile this mysterious long-haired guy is showing him.

“Wh— who are you?” He found his voice creaking though it came out as a whinge. The boy seems to contemplate albeit sounding afraid.

Bill cussed. He could've come up with a better plan in showing up himself. The kid was frightened, obviously. Now, how is he going to convince him in meeting the goblins?

His gaze softening, the young man gathered all the patience he could get. Despite his fear, the kid's voice was angelic. “I'm Bill,” he said nicely, holding out a hand, “I work for Gringotts, the wizarding bank.”

“The wizarding bank?”

“Yeah. Why? Haven't heard of Gringotts before?” He frowned over the question insinuated by the child.

“There's a wizarding bank? You mean a bank for wizards?”

Bill failed to hide his chuckles seeing the amazement in his eyes. He looked surprised and in wonderment at the same time. “Of course, there is, young man. Most boys your age must've known about it already. Heard about the name, at least.”

The boy shook his head, “I didn't even know wizards exist until you told me just now.”

Bill's face plummeted into a frown. He wasn't expecting all of these when he was sent over by the goblins to fetch the kid. How is he going to explain them all in twenty minutes?

“There's no way you wouldn't have known there are wizards out there. There are many of us. You're a decent one yourself, in fact.”

“I'm a decent what?” Harry gasped.

The man's patience is losing as time goes by. What kind of people had Dumbledore sent this boy to look after him all these years? How could anyone deprive him of his own identity when almost every boy in their world speaks of his name?

“You're a wizard, Harry. You should’ve known that.”

The boy deadpanned a bit. He went stunned and utterly speechless. He just stood there, gaping at Bill with his mouth slightly open. How can he, Harry of all things be someone this guy is claiming him to be?

“Have you done anything strange whenever you're too angry or too sad?” Asked Bill who tried to help him by recalling a few familiar 'accidents' he must've experienced in those many times — a lot.

And recall them he just did. It made him realize he wasn't imagining them when his hair just kept growing on its own whenever his aunt tries to shear them almost bald or in those instances, he found himself on the roof of the school kitchens in an attempt to escape from Dudley's gang. Worse, the one that had happened recently where he managed to make one of the glass tanks disappear where a giant boa constrictor was being held. He even found himself talking to the snake! Although he ended up not having any meals for a week after his Uncle Vernon had found out about the whole mess.

“So, are you getting what I mean by now?”

“But— but… how can I be a wizard? My parents...”

“They died protecting you, Harry.”

“What? But I was told that they died in a car crash!” He said in full rage.

“Who told you that?” Bill was getting angrier by the minute.

“My— my aunt and uncle.” His face dropped. Tears began to well in his eyes.

Bill took both his hands and held them gently, murmuring a promise in his head to get back to these people one of these days to punish them for their atrocity. “No, Harry. Your parents died trying to save you.” He swallowed a lump, not so sure if he is in the right place or even the right person to discuss this with him right now.

“What happened?” Harry begged. All his life he wanted to know more about his family. His true family. One rule he had learned in living with the Dursleys was that he wasn't allowed to ask questions. Most especially when it has something to do with his parents.

Bill ran a hand through the long locks of his hair. Harry tilted his head to one side, observing his movements. He didn't look upset although he looked worried. “Sorry, I had no idea. I mean, when my bosses told me to fetch you out of here today, I didn't expect you not knowing anything about our world.” He admitted.

The boy's eyes brightened. The man was here to take him out of his misery! Just like in his dream. Although he decided to ask him about it later. He wanted to hear the truth about his family's demise first things first before he could say anything more about it.

“Well, I guess, it is best that you'd know as much as I can tell you about what really happened. Like you really didn't know?”

Harry shook his head.

“Merlin, how could you not know? Anyways, it begins, I suppose, with— with a person called— but it's incredible you don't know his name, everyone in our world knows—”

“Who?”

“Well— I don't like saying the name if I can help it. No one does.”

“Why not?”

“Son of Mordred,” Bill muttered under his breath. “Harry, people are still afraid. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than ever. His name was...”

The red-haired man gulped, but no words came out.

“You could write it down?” Harry suggested.

“Nah, doesn't matter. All right — Voldemort.” Bill shuddered. “Don't make me say it again. Anyway, this — this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started looking for followers. Got them too — some were afraid, some just wanted a bit of his power. because he was getting himself powerful, alright. Those were dark days, Harry. People didn't know who to trust, didn't dare to get too friendly with strange witches or wizards... terrible things had happened. He was taking over, to sum it all a bit. Some stood up to him, of course. — and he killed them. Horribly. One of the only safe places left was the school. It's called Hogwarts. They say the headmaster was the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. He didn't dare try taking the school, not just then, anyway.”

He paused for a bit, swallowed a good lump in his throat before he continued explaining things.

“Now, your mum and dad were as good a witch and a wizard can possibly be.” That's what his parents had told them in one of their bedtime stories. He thought they must've known them personally. Or maybe not. Who knows? “Head boy and girl at Hogwarts in their day!” He continued, “suppose the mystery is why You-Know-Who never tried to get them on his side before... or he had probably known they were too close to Dumbledore to want anything to do with the dark side. I don't know. Maybe he thought he could persuade them... or maybe he just wanted them out of the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you were living, on Halloween night ten years ago. You were just a year old. He came to your house and— and —”

It was too much for Bill, let alone with Harry here who only stared at him with glassy eyes. He could imagine the shock this is causing him knowing what had really happened to them after being shunned of the truth for a very long time.

“Sorry,” he said. “But it's just sad. I really didn't expect to be the one to tell all these things to you, Harry. I'm very sorry.”

The boy didn't say anything. He just looked at his feet at the dusty ground until all that Bill could hear is his sniffling sound. It broke his heart. He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pockets and handed it to him so he can wipe the tears all over his face. He looked sympathetic.

“So you mean to say my parents were killed by Vol—”

“Shh!!! Don't say his name.” Bill hissed, admonishing.

“Sorry. You-Know-Who killed my parents?”

The man nodded. Once again, he looked sad. “Yeah, he did. But then— this the real mystery of the whole thing— he tried to kill you too and you were only a baby. We don't know why. Maybe he wanted to make a clean job of it, or I suppose he just liked killing people a lot by then. And yet, he couldn't do it.” Bill motioned a hand at the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. “Never wondered how you ever got that mark? That's no ordinary cut, man. That's when a powerful, evil curse touches you— the same curse that took care of your mum and your dad and even your house— but for some reason, it didn't work on you. And that is why you were famous, Harry. No one ever lived after he decided to kill them, no one except you, and he'd killed some of the best witches and wizards of age— the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts...” He swallowed, remembering his mum's story of his uncles. “And you were only a baby when he tried it on you, and you lived.”

Hearing those words, something very painful was going on in Harry's mind. As Bill's story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before — and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

He cleared his throat, as all of this information is starting to fry his brain. Harry tried to avert the matter somewhere else, like what he was dying to ask the person in front of him since earlier.

“You— you said something about fetching me a while ago.” Harry blurted as soon as he recovered from the overwhelming anguish.

“Oh, yeah.” Bill almost forgot why he had come here in the first place. “My bosses want to see you in order to explain more of these things.” That's the best that he could put it all together to make his intentions short and fit. “It's a wizarding bank, and they also want to give this to you.”

All of a sudden, a brown caramel cake appears on top of the young man's hands. It has eleven lit candles bearing the words, “Happy Birthday, Harry Potter!” written in neat frostings on top of it.

“Happy birthday, by the way.” He didn't know it was the boy's birthday until one of the goblins informed him, reminding Bill to bring the boy a cake along with their greetings.

“Thank you.” Harry beamed. This was the first time he had gotten something on his birthday, at the very least. He accepted it with trembling fingers and blew the candle to make his first wish— which already came true, by the way.

“And they also sent you this letter asking to meet with them today. It has something to do about your parents' will.” The red-haired man handed him the brown envelope Ragnall asked him to deliver earlier that evening.

“My parents left me a will?” Harry thought he had enough of surprises. Meeting Bill, finding out that he's a wizard, his parents' deaths, his birthday cake, now his parent's will!

“Of course, they did. You didn't think they left you with nothing, did you?” Bill eyed him incredulously.

He almost told him he did, or at least, that was what his relatives have been telling him ever since.

“Your parents are good for nothing drunkards who were irresponsible enough to kill themselves in a car crash and left you to our misery.” His aunt and uncle kept telling him repeatedly. He heard his uncle complaining many times.

Having too much of it, Harry carefully removed the wax sealing the paper from its lid. It wrote his name legibly with the right address where he was tucked in the middle of the sea.

-·-

_ Dear Mister Potter, _

_ Our office wishes to extend our greetings on your birthday hoping you celebrate it with a happy vibe. We have sent one of our employees on our behalf to deliver the message along with our little gift. _

_ On another note, we wish to inform you that the time has come for\1your return to our world where you belong. It is a grave mistake from the side of an unauthorized individual to place you under the custody of your relatives beyond our knowledge which violated the wishes of your parents. It has recently become known to us as well that the Lord and Lady Potter have entrusted a will to be read after their deaths on the night of October 31st, 1991 that didn't happen startlingly. Our investigations had led to the same culprit who has sent you to your horrible condition. Therefore, heavy penalties will be applied. _

_ For this reason, we encourage you to visit our bank before midnight to discuss the situation upon your arrival. The rest of the details will be explained to you by the representative who will be escorting you along with this missive. _

_ We look forward to hearing from you soon. _

_ Yours sincerely, _

__

_ Director Ragnall _

_ Head Goblin, Gringotts Bank _

-·-

“What do they mean I shouldn't have been placed here by my parents?” Harry asks Bill with wide eyes after reading the message.

Bill scowls at the letter the boy hands him so he can examine it himself. It wasn’t explained by Ragnall properly but from the looks of it, he’s starting to get his suspicions as to who they are talking about as the culprit in this case. Glancing at his watch, he looked horrorstruck to check out the time. They have five minutes left before midnight strikes.

“Harry, look.” He explained to the boy as fast as he can. “We don’t have much time. If you want to know more about your parents, come with me. My bosses will explain it to you further. They also said if we don’t make it out of here, somebody else will. They'll take you away and we don’t want that to happen. I don’t mean to scare you but I want to take you to safety as much as I can.”

Harry stared at his eyes and he could only see the sincerity in them. Slowly, he pondered until eventually, Harry nodded. He was about to tell him he’d be glad to be away from that place, to begin with when they both jumped from the loud bang that came from the door.

**_BOOM!!!_ **

The whole shack shivered. It was as if someone is trying to break in by destroying the solid wooden platform.

“They have come.” Bill gasps in horror. “Come on! Let’s get out of here. NOW!”

“But how?”

The man held out his hand.

**_BOOM!!!_ ** There goes another bang. Anytime now, the door will fall off to the ground.

“Grab my hand.”

Panic strikes before hesitation kick him in. As soon as Harry touches his palms, he felt like squeezed inside a rubber tube and vanished from sight along with the redhead.

Both have no idea they left the shack with an angry giant roaring in rage, hexing the occupants inside that shack by turning them all into pigs.


	3. Meeting Charlie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie didn’t expect to meet the other part of his soul at the bank…

A few seconds passed by and the nauseating sensation was gone. Harry kept his eyes closed though he felt both his feet landing on solid ground. Now that he thinks of it, thirty minutes ago, he was dreaming, waiting for his birthday to arrive inside a damp old shack in the middle of the sea. But now, here he is standing in the lobby of a white marble building beside Bill marveling at the grandeur of the place.

“Pinch me, Bill. I think I’m dreaming— ouch!” He yelped after feeling the man’s knuckles lightly hitting his arm. “What did you do that for?”

“I heard you say to punch you to wake you up.” Bill buckled.

“I said, ‘pinch’ not ‘punch’.” He felt his cheeks reddening when the other guy messed his hair with his hand.

“Billy?”

They both turned around when a voice calling Bill's name caught their attention. A stocky young man about the same height as his with long red hair came rushing towards their direction. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned; his arms were muscular, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it.

“Charlie? What are you doing here?”

One look and Harry can say they are brothers. They have a lot of things in common from the number of freckles to the shade of their hair. Not to mention, that handsomely identical wicked grin they wore on their faces.

“I just got an owl from the bank asking me to be here immediately.” The man who approached them said energetically. “When did you make it back from Egypt?”

“Yesterday evening.” Bill pulled the other redhead in a bone-crushing embrace.

“Wicked! Mum would be thrilled. Will it be for good now?”

The cursebreaker wanted to tell him he's here for a new assignment when Harry's presence held him from saying anything further. The boy just stood there, waiting patiently while giving them time to share their moment.

“I'm not sure until they sort things out. Just came back to fetch Li'l Harry here for them,” chided Bill who clapped his calloused hand on top of the boy's shoulder.

“Hey! 'm not little.” Harry retorted in a weak protest, scrunching his nose. A habit he’d learned whenever he's getting embarrassed.

The atmosphere went completely still and silent.

“Blimey,” whispered a dumbfounded Charlie Weasley. “Are… are you Ha-Harry Potter…?”

“Shhh!!! No one's supposed to know he's here, mate.” Bill hisses. The urge to fill the man in on the details is tormenting the hell out of him. “This is Charles, by the way, my annoying little brother.” He added for Harry's benefit with a little hint of disdain.

The boy nodded, staring at him intently. There's this strange surge of magical aura passing through his nerves as he looked into the man's royal blue gazes. “Hello,” he greeted, smiling shyly as he held out a hand.

Something about his smile melted Charlie's heart. He had never seen a boy so beautiful as this young man hiding behind his brother's back. He struts forward and seizes the chance to take the offered hand. “It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Charlie,” he said, beaming happily. “Sorry for not introducing myself right away—” He almost yelped in shock when he felt a sudden jolt from the contact, but what startled them the most was the sudden glow that sparked as both of their magic reacted.

“What on Merlin's name was that?”

Bill had an idea of what it could've been but was cut off short when one of the goblins approached their way after witnessing the scene. He was only about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard, and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. “Weasley. We've been waiting for your arrival. Ragnall is expecting the boy in his office now.” He turned to the other redheaded young man who remained there standing beside them. He was gaping stupidly at the two. “That goes the same for you, Mister Charles Weasley. If you’ll follow me. Let’s go.”

They were led by the said goblin through a pair of silver doors where they were greeted by two of those beings bowing their heads in one fold. About a hundred more goblins were coming and going inside the massive corridor minding their own business. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and they were ushered into the largest among them.

“King Ragnall. Mister Potter has arrived.”

Two golden doors swung open. They were welcomed by the sight of an enormous room that seemed like a throne hall decorated with elaborate patterns and decorations gilded with gold trimmings.

“Ah, there you are. You boys finally made it,” a goblin of exceptional height greeted them. 

“King Ragnall,” Bill tilted his head. “May your enemies bow down before your throne.” 

His other companions followed suit.

“Well met, William Weasley.” He turns to face the boy next to them sending him his warm and gentle greeting. “Well met, Heir Potter.”

Harry copied the gesture he saw from what Bill did earlier. “Well met, your majesty. May your gold overflow beyond the borders of your kingdom.”

Everybody gasped. They all gawked at him, looking stunned.

“What?” He whispers the question to the other man.

“How did you know about goblin etiquette?” Bill asked him, susceptible. As far as it is known, very few wizards understand, let alone honor goblin customs.

“I was observing the way you did it. I also noticed their different ways in greeting each other on our way here.” Harry explained it as though it's the most obvious thing there is. Charlie beside him had gone speechless. Sooner later, his awe will broaden more once Bill pointed out that the boy had no idea about their world until he took him from his relatives only a few hours ago.

Ragnall's laughter boomed across the hall. He found this boy far more clever than his predecessors.

“You really are a Potter's son.” He roared in amusement. Harry supposed that was a compliment. The goblin stood up from his chair and clapped his hands. “Send the welcoming party in.” Ragnall boomed his command.

Having said that, a large band of little creatures marched their way into his office. They wore bright green clothes with thick leather belts and a pointed green cap dangling on their heads. Their feet are covered with a pair of uniform socks. Although one pair is different from the other. One Blue and the other was Gray. Each held a musical instrument in his hand as they strode around the office three times. 

“What are those things?” Harry asked again to the man on his side.

“They’re house elves, Harry,” Bill replied. “Good at serving their masters in every household affair.” He was pretty sure these creatures all belong to the kid’s family himself.

The tiny elves continued their marching until one of them approached their group. He brought with him a purple cushion bearing a Beryl Coronet. He tilted his head a little bit and laid the precious gem in front of Bill who took a few minutes before he understood what it meant. The man accepted the crown and took it, placing it on top of Harry’s head.

Soon, the creatures began to cheer among themselves. “Long live our master! Long live Harry Potter!” They all yelled. And one by one, they dropped onto their knees to show their reverence. Bill followed, so does Charlie who obviously couldn’t believe himself to what he had witnessed. 

“Bill… what’s going on?”

“They’re hailing you as their king.” The red-haired guy explained.

“What the… but why?” He asked again curiously. 

“We will tell you later, Mister Potter.” Ragnall butts in. But first, let's all have a late dinner. I'm famished. Besides, we have every reason to celebrate Heir Potter's birthday.” He takes a step and leaves the office. “Follow me, boys.” He gestured to the three.

At that point, it was Bill who ushered Harry and his brother on the way outside. “Blimey, Harry. You surprise me a lot.” He huffed under his breath so that only the two of them could hear him talk. “Goblins don't just typically celebrate somebody else's birthdays, you know. You really must be that important.” He mused.

“How would I know?” He tried not to roll his eyes. He caught Charlie's gaze who just stood there staring at him quietly this whole time.

“I'm sorry, I forgot that today is your birthday,” said the redhead apologetically.

“It's okay,” Harry waved off. People aren't supposed to know someone else's birthday, would they? Especially if it's a stranger’s, in the first place.

It finally hit him when Bill pointed out that almost everyone in their world had known the very day he was born. A perk of being a celebrity, he added that part as a joke.

_ Bloody brilliant. _

All his life, he was told he’s a no-one. Now here comes a bunch of strangers who worship him like he hung the moon and the stars. Not that he's complaining about it, though. Especially when that someone is capable of making him feel warm and secured deep inside for some reason he couldn’t determine as of now.

Bill made a gurgling noise in the background. “I dunno with you two but there's a huge buffet waiting for us in the banquet hall. And you, young man,” he groped Harry by the back of his neck, squeezing it gently. “You're way too thin. Can't say I didn't notice the way your relatives treat you, eh?”

The boy fell silent. As much as this whole thing is giving him a jovial sense of freedom, he couldn't help but feel sad whenever his supposed ‘family’s’ way of treating him is being brought up. His reaction didn't escape the younger redhead's observation. Charlie wrote a mental note to discuss it with his brother sometime later when they're all alone.

They went back to the hallway where there are about hundreds of massive doors before them, but this time, Bill brought them through the door that would take them to the banquet hall.

“We're supposed to explain to young Harry here about his accounts along with his inheritances.” Bill directs the information to his brother who looked slightly befuddled. “Why you're looped into this matter though remains a question.” Now that he knows Charlie is going to be a part of Harry’s affairs, he started to fill him in with the rest of the details. Poor little Harry trotting behind them with his tiny strides and an oversized shirt. The precious crown still balanced on his head. Although he finds it somewhat cute only if he hadn't found out the real story behind this whole thing.

The man felt his heart crumbling to pieces as Bill went on in describing what he had seen across the little shack where he was instructed to pick Harry up. Everything they were told since when they were kids was nothing but loads of old trash and bollocks by no other than the once, they'd thought a great man, Dumbledore himself. Charlie almost can't believe it when his brother narrated the boy's reaction when he was told he was a wizard, forget how happy he looked when he was given a birthday cake with lighting candles for the first time in his life!

His fist had clenched with that surge of magic fuming out of his core, swearing from the bottom of his heart in making sure he is never going to return to his relatives anymore!

Charlie watched him intently while helping himself with all the good things to eat on the table whilst concurrently making sure he eats as much food as his body needs. Bill was right. He does look thinner and smaller than his age! And he was more than satisfied when the boy managed to finish not one, but three helpings of the full-course meal the goblins had served them for his birthday.

Harry had never seen so many mouth-watering dishes in one banquet. Not that he'd been into one anyway. He thought he wasn't starving until he saw cauldrons of beef and stout, braised pork, platters of Dorset Jugged Steak, Cornish Caudle Chicken Pie; varieties of fish dishes such as fish and chips, lemon sole, baked scallops, tweed kettle, and many other delicious things served on the table.

Twenty minutes later, he fought the urge to curl up in his chair to take a nap. He never felt his hunger being this satisfied in his life.

As their empty plates are cleared to make room for dessert, (wait, what?!) Ragnall cleared his throat, catching their attention.

“Now that we are all here now, settled, I wish to inform Heir Potter here that we've been waiting far too long for this moment to arrive.” He began. “Our nation has been trying to find a way to take you out of those muggles' custody and grant you emancipation at least. Unfortunately, the wizengamot has all but ignored our appeals. It is not that we care too much about your laws, wizards, but the wards in place have prevented us from locating your residence.”

“Wh—why would anybody try to hide me from everyone? As if I am that very important.” Harry couldn't help but ask. Bill gave him as much information that somehow helped him understand a few bits of things but for people to go to such an extent, it's overwhelming.

“Mister Potter, contrary to what your relatives have been trying to make you believe, you are in fact, a great young man. It has nothing to do with the fact that you managed to defeat the most powerful dark wizard of all time but the destiny that awaits you will lead you to greatness beyond the rest of your kind.”

Harry jerked from his seat, his hands shaking. “You mean being a freak? I'm a nobody. I don't even know I have a last name until Bill handed me over your letter. In fact, I wasn't called Harry until I reached the age of six when the teacher asked Aunt Petunia what my name is. I was used to being called 'boy' or 'freak' or other foul names they could ever think of me.” He raised both his hands in despair and buried his face into it, crying hysterically.

“What do you mean you don't know your last name until recently, Harry?” Charlie asked before he could stop himself from bursting beyond his rage after hearing everything this poor kid has gone through from those people who were supposed to have taken care of him. “And why are you considering yourself a freak? Who told you that?”

“My— my relatives.” He admitted. “It's what they call me at home.”

“Heir Potter, based on the initial assessment we have received from Mister Weasley alone, we could see signs of mental, verbal, emotional, and physical abuse committed by those muggles against yourself.” Ragnall leans forward, his eyes softening showing Harry all reassurances he could get. “Do they ever hurt you? Do they feed you at least three meals a day? Do they force you to do something not your age should do?”

The boy nodded, shook his head, and then nodded again. He darted his gaze somewhere else, avoiding contact. The conversation was making him feel uncomfortable as they went further beyond.

But before he knew it, Charlie's hand already took his. He looked into his eyes and saw how much the guy cared for him. And from that day, he knew he could trust him. Harry didn't know why but he felt so drawn to Charlie that he would believe anything he’d say even after meeting him at such a short period.

“Harry, no matter what, we are here to protect you. You can tell us anything and we wouldn't think any less of you. And right now, I can swear to my magic that you are never to go back to see them ever again. Just allow us to help you and I can reassure you, buddy. I'll protect you with my whole life, please.”

A small glint had shone at the corner of his eyes. For some reason, there's something in Charlie's voice that makes him trust the guy. From the time he held his hand close, there was a strange connection that came into being between the both of them. And he can't say it's a bad thing because somehow, it makes him feel happy deep within.

“Mister Potter,” they turn their heads back to the goblin. “I recommend you go over a full scan to determine all the injuries you have gotten in the past ten years. You might deter the suggestion, but it would help us later on once we use those findings as evidence against any attempt to contest your appeal to take custody out of your muggle relatives.”

Harry nodded. He didn't need much convincing mostly after finding out that the scan would prevent any fool from trying to take away his freedom.

“Excellent. We will schedule it once we finish discussing the rest of your affairs today.”

As their discussion headed on, a thought boggling his mind came out as a question.

“When you told me, you've been waiting for this day to happen… why?” He meant, why would they bother? It's not his intention to challenge their motive beyond anything else but Harry can't seem to put it all together how everyone seems to fuss a lot about this whole thing concerning him and his welfare.

The scraping of chairs followed as Ragnall rose from his seat. He turns around so that it is his back that's facing them while talking.

“Your family has its roots dated way beyond the days of the founders, Mister Potter.” He says in a grim-like manner staring at the stained-glass window of his office. “In fact, it has trailed its origins back in time when there are barely humans walking on the surface of the earth. They have forged alliances with several nations including creatures and beings, royal elves, gremlins... that counted us of course, the goblins.”

Harry turns his gaze into nothingness whilst his thoughts set adrift onto the certitude of his ancestry. There's never been a day he wasn't reminded how alone in this world he was with no one to look back into. Of course, his aunt and uncle more than helped in making him think so.

_ “Freaks like you don't have families to live on, boy!” _

_ “You're just nothing... nothing... nothing at all.” _

“The Potters have produced kings and queens and powerful wizards in the past few centuries.” Ragnall continued. “And in their wake, they have left with them enormous riches let alone a wide array of lands that cannot be compared with any possessions that belong to any being on earth.”

“Are you saying I'm of royal blood?” Shocked, appalled, it dawned to him at last.

“Why? Yes, young man. Indeed. Tracing from the roots of the last high elf king, Argael himself.” The goblin reaffirms. “Now, you are getting it.” A smirk had formed at the corner of his cunny lips. “Needless to say, for thousands of years, our seers and sages have witnessed a prophecy that is intended to happen in the present being. We shall reveal it to you soon. Just tell us whenever you are ready to know more. After all these circumstances, I don't think you are interested to hear about them yet and not until we have explained to you everything that’s happening. Plus, that knowledge is not intended to reach outside of this room. Otherwise, your family's demise will go back to how they were before.” Randall threw a narrow look at all four of them, reeling his words as a stern warning.

Harry nodded again. He doesn't like it when he is kept in the dark about things, but he agreed when he said it's not the right time to discuss this matter as of today yet.

“Now, going back, for several alarming reasons, the night your parents have been killed, an audacious fool took you out of your house along with their bodies. The same person who had brought you to your anguish, what I mean, your hard-hearted relatives.

“Dumbledore...” Hissed Bill who has started to realize as he recalled the many times, he'd heard his mother telling them the story of the Potters over and over when they were still little.

“Exactly, Weasley.” Ragnall's sharp teeth are gnawing. “The old coot has cleverly orchestrated his plans by taking young Harry away from those people who are supposed to have brought him up once the inevitable happens to his parents... by either sending them to their deaths or disposing of them by other means.”

The redheaded brothers stared at each other in wide disbelief. It makes sense to them now. The Longbottoms, the Abbotts, the McKinnons, Sirius Black... no wonder. They've become pawns on Dumbledore's little chessboard designed by means of his influence on kidnapping Harry from them all.

“We could do nothing after he transferred your magical guardianship to himself and left you in front of your relatives' doorstep. Until the day we find out where he hid you, there was no other way for us to trace your location because of the powerful charms and enchantments he had placed on their house. The only chance we have left is to wait until the day you receive your first Hogwarts letter. Knowing those muggles, we have been certain they will get you out of their hiding place as soon as it happens.”

Bill’s amazement was priceless thinking about the genius of the action being made.

“But why would they ever do such a thing?” Harry asked.

“Control, Mister Potter— Power. In a few moments, we will show you all the list of your properties and estates. That way, you will understand why there are so many people who are after your custody and use it for their own interests. Never mind the thought of a child losing what was left of his family and leave him with nothing in the end.”

Harry's eyes glimmered with watery tears from what he had heard. If the family riches are the reason that had led his parents to their deaths, he's willing to exchange them for all that he has whatever it takes.

Charlie and Bill could only watch sympathetically at the grief-stricken kid.


	4. Wealth and Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Charlie will finally find out what had caused the incident back at the entrance of the bank…

It took a few moments before Harry recovered from his sobs. Charlie didn’t let go of his hand offering comfort to the boy. Once settled, Ragnall went back to his seat, showing Harry a kind smile he rarely displayed towards anyone, witches or wizards for that matter.

Just in time for their dessert to arrive, the king of the goblins took a bowl of trifle and handed it over to the sniffling child. “That’ll make you feel better,” he told him, patting his head.

Harry couldn't help but show a weak smile over the warm gesture. He doesn't know what a trifle tastes like even when his Aunt Petunia frequently makes them. Sensing the lightening of his mood, Ragnall asked, “how are you feeling now? Better?”

The boy simply nodded.

“Good. Let us take a short break before we proceed to the next part of this meeting, shall we then?”

Everyone agreed to the idea without further hesitations.

Fifteen minutes later, they are back on their seats around the long table.

Another goblin was called, and a ritual bowl was brought in. The chief goblin rummaged through the drawers of his desk to search for a spare parchment. “What we need to do is to validate your inheritances by performing the blood rite,” said Ragnall. “Give me your right hand, Mister Potter.”

Harry made a reluctant noise when he turned to Bill for reassurance. The man reciprocated it with a nod, telling him that it's okay. Seeing this, he held his hand out willingly.

“I will need three drops of your blood to gather all the information we will be needing.” The king explained, ignoring the horrified look on the young man's gaze as soon as he saw the dagger he pulled from his desk. Nonetheless, not once did he wince nor showed any signs of distress when the goblin made a small cut on his finger taking the needed amount of blood for the ritual.

The three of them watched as Harry's blood gradually produced red ink inside the bowl. Afterward, Ragnall took a quill and dipped the tip into the bottom. What happened next was not what the boy had imagined. The quill took a life of its own and glowed brightly in an instant. It wiggled in the air and began to scrawl words into the parchment expanding to a greater length until it reached up to about six feet long containing a wide list of items that based on Bill's reaction are mostly interesting things they will have to look into sooner later.

“Let's see. Well, of course, being the son and heir apparent to the head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of the Potters, that makes you the absolute Lord Harry James Potter once you take the mantle of the primary house. However, you have also acquired the heirship to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Blacks.”

“What?!” The two redheads almost shouted their astonishment together.

Raising his brows as what seemed like an air of calmed assessment, Ragnall explained, “Lord Sirius Orion Black declared Mister Potter his official heir before his incarceration in the wizarding prison. I believe it was mentioned in his parents' will declaring Lord Black as young Harry James Potter's godfather before their deaths.”

Bill got blown away in his seat. His eyes blinking. It made sense to him now that he looked at it. Harry's godfather was sentenced to life imprisonment to keep him out of the way. Poor boy has little to no understanding of what has gone with him. Not even understanding what the goblin was rambling. He just sat there paying attention as the meeting went further. For now, he has no one to trust other than these three gentlemen discussing about his welfare.

Ragnall shoved the parchment on the table that contained the long list of his estates and the brothers gaped in round eyes while reading the names that are written in it.

**_Name_ ** _: Harrison James Potter_

 **_Mother_ ** _: Lily Potter nee Evans_

 **_Father_ ** _: James Fleamont Potter_

 **_Date of Birth_ ** _: July 31, 1980_

 **_Declared Godparents_ ** _:_

_Sirius Orion Black_

_Remus John Lupin_

_Alice Fortesque Longbottom_

_Frank C. J. Longbottom_

**_Entitlements:_ **

**_Lordships:_ **

_Most Ancient and Noble House of Sage_

_Most Ancient and Noble House of Lavigne_

_The Highly Noble and Royal House of Pendragon_

_Ancient and Noble House of Richford_

_Ancient and Noble House of Leyton_

_The Highly Honored and Noble House of Gryffindor_

_The Highly Honored and Noble House of Ravenclaw_

_The Highly Honored and Noble House of Slytherin (By conquest)_

_The Ancient and Most High Order of the Emrys_

_The Noble House of St. Marius_

**_Titles_ ** _:_

**_House of Pendragon_ **

_Basileus Temeraire_

_Grand Prince Greynolds_

_Ealdorman Mavreck_

_Count High Weston_

_Earl Feron_

**_The High Order of Emrys_ **

_Archmage Ambrosius_

_Chief Warlock Ulrick_

_Baron Clermont_

_Viscount Hezra_

**_House of Potter (Primary)_ **

_Duke Revvyn_

_Count Holborn_

_Baron Geisler_

_Earl Damian_

_House of Black_

_Duke Jaris_

_Viscount Arlo_

_Baron Gunnar_

**_House of Sage_ **

_Duke Favroe_

_Patriarch Hemm_

_Viscount Lassrin_

_Baron Sarkin_

**_House of Lavigne_ **

_Dauphine Kent_

_Count Dagfinn_

_Baronet Zenner_

**_House of Richford_ **

_Dominus Arrowhead_

_Duke Archer_

_Elector Ramoth_

**_House of Leyton_ **

_Marquess Hoof_

**_House of Gryffindor_ **

_Archduke Griffin_

_Viscount Peverell_

_Primor Embre_

**_House of Ravenclaw_ **

_Viscount Hawke_

_Baron Lustros_

**_House of Slytherin_ **

_Grand Duke Kadric_

_Baron Zagaroth_

_Earl Baxar_

**_House of St. Marius_ **

_Infante Esdel_

-·-

“Bloody hell!”

Bill and Charlie swallowed a lump in their throats whilst scanning the extensive list of the boy’s properties and vaults. They have gone through those mind-blowing lordships and titles, plus, the enormous amount of galleons, sickles, and knuts under his very own name. He seemed oblivious to their stares without knowing his worth. Harry just sat there scrunching his nose.

No wonder there are a lot of people trying to go after his wealth. The boy’s galleons has reached more than a Billion and still increasing at a tremendous rate!

“Basileus...” Bill gasped. “That's the title given to someone almost equivalent to an emperor!”

The reaction has made the rest of them bucking up. Not many in the wizarding world are aware of that little known fact. After all, Magical Britain is indeed still operated by monarchical rule. The appellation had been long forgotten out of certain political causes but is still usable.

“And is the Ancient and Most Noble House of Sage known to have been lost centuries ago?”

The older redhead turned his head to his brother. “What do you know about that family, Charles?”

“Blimey, Billy. That house is legendarily known to have originated from a family of Royal Elves! And they’re known to have vanished from the face of middle earth for like thousands of years.”

“Your assessment is correct, Mister Weasley.” Ragnall agreed. He squinted his gaze towards Harry who is now fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat. “The house of Sage is one of the oldest or probably the noblest and ancient after the High order of the Emrys, the house that belonged to Merlin himself. And then, there's the House of Pendragon. The House of the ancestry of The Great King Arthur as well.”

The brothers glanced at each other before turning to the boy before them. Now that they think of it, both boys are looking at their future king!

“These houses have their own account managers.” Ragnall went back to the long list as he called the said managers one at a time. “And they are governed by a general account manager who overlooks, assesses, and reviews all of your estates.” Pretty soon, they stepped forward one by one introducing themselves. “Gatwick here is the overall manager of your vaults. All your concerns regarding finances and properties shall be directed to him. Should you have any questions about your accounts, he's the best one for the job.”

The said goblin accosted the young man, greeting his client, “Heir Potter.”

Harry stood up returning the gesture. “Hello, sir. May your gold rise as the blood of your enemies flow from the edges of your pikes.”

Once again, they stared at each other in amazement while Ragnok simply shook his head, smiling.

“As soon as we finish discussing everything that Heir Potter needs in preparation for his return to our world, I will have Gatwick go over the details in managing your accounts as well as claiming your lordship all in all.”

Everybody conceded to the suggestion.

At which point, the king of the goblins said something in gobbledegook to the Potter Vault Manager who nodded and sauntered out of the hall. “We will skip over your assets a little bit. This time, we will talk about another important thing—your guardianship.” His glares have directed to the two older men to heed a warning which they seem to get. Charlie most notably though he wasn't sure why yet.

“William, the reason why we have requested your transfer back here in England is to overlook the situation. I know it will allow you greater authority once we promote you to a higher post as Heir Potter’s general account manager but along with it comes a huge responsibility.” Ragnall was eyeing the young redhead sharply. “We will entrust with you our biggest and youngest client and we are confident that you will carry out the task to the best of your abilities. You will be training him with everything he needs to know including the basic wizarding etiquette so we can prepare him for his emancipation once things are placed in their proper order.”

Bill accepted the instructions unhesitatingly. He couldn't believe he was promoted at such a young age just to look after a member of the royal family.

“Even so, your job description is not enough to stand before Mister Potter as his legal guardian. We require someone with more authority to do so and unfortunately, all the people on his list are incapable of doing it out of their current state.” What raised their curiosity though was the feral smirk showing on his face whose eyes are now darted to the younger Weasley sibling. “That's where you come in.”

“M-me?” Charlie aimed a finger to himself.

“Yes, Mister Charles Weasley, or shall I say, Lord Prewett?”

“Ho-how...”

“You thought we weren't informed when you took the lordship in our goblin branch in Bucharest last year, eh?” Said Ragnall knowingly.

Bill's face matched that of his employer appallingly. He was heir to the noble house of the Weasleys and as second in line, Charlie was entitled to take the lordship that belonged to their mother's side. Given that and all, it still surprised him that the man had finally accepted it after years of not showing any interest in holding the family lineage.

“Alas... that's not the main reason why we called your presence, Mister Charles. What we wanted from you is to talk about your connection with our little young lad. The evidence was shown earlier this evening at the lobby before you came in here if you can still remember that little incident.”

The three young gentlemen have faltered. All this information frying their brains had made them forget about the whole thing.

“Whatever had happened was a result of your soulbond taking place.”

“Wha-what?!” They all spluttered.

“Now, now. No need to look so shocked. I believe you all wanted an explanation, yes?”

“Yes sir.”

“Very well. Except for Mister Potter here, I can assume the both of you are well aware of what a soulbond is.” Ragnall directed the statement to the brothers which they returned with a nod.

“It happens when two halves of a soul meet. It is a fascinating form of magic between two separate cores that linked together as one. Which means Harry and I are... are soulmates— BLOODY HELL!” His eyes widened in surprise. It was obvious the knowledge didn't kick in right away until he voiced it out loud.

Harry tilted his head to the side. He looked puzzled. “Soulmates? But does that only happen between a boy and a girl?” What he meant, in this case, was that he thought it only happens between a witch and a wizard as natural as it could be.

“Heir Potter, it can also happen between two wizards although it is very rare. Not to mention, having a soulmate alone is rare enough. The last pair was recorded four hundred years ago. If you want another reference, Merlin himself was bonded to King Arthur Pendragon.”

“Really? Wait, why didn't we know about that?” Bill, the bookworm as he was, looked highly shocked by this new information.

“Their love story was altered by the subsequent generations who are bigoted against the idea of same-sex marriage. Although it no longer matters nowadays since the 16th century.” Ragnall explained to them.

“So you are saying... my connection with Harry will grant me his guardianship?”

“Exactly. Way stronger than the guardianship his godparents can offer.” The goblin king pulled s out another spare parchment from his desk and set them in front of the younger redhead. “Even the wizengamot cannot contest the authenticity of it. The bond will allow you to feel each other's emotions when they're at their strongest. It wouldn't cause any injuries from each other, however, there are chances when the effects can be severe. Now, if you sign the paperwork, his custody will be transferred to you effective immediately which would mean you recognize Heir Potter as your soulmate and will remain as his guardian until the full bond is completed. Thus, from then onwards, you will make decisions for his welfare, his assets, as well as his seats in the Wizengamot, Mister Weasley.”

Charlie gulped his nervousness from all the information he had received. He was so happy to find out his soulmate is none other than the boy-who-lived although it's not the name that attracted him to the kid but his innocence, the purity of his soul, and the beauty he could see right in those gazes of his.

Ragnall placed the quill on top of the papers. “What is your decision, Lord Prewett?”

He didn't have to think about it that long. Making up his mind, the young man took the quill and began to scrawl his name on every page. But before the tip had touched the surface, he felt a hand pressed on top of his.

He looked up to see that it was Harry, trying to stop him. “Are— are you really gonna do this? You— you don't really have to, you know. I— I don't want to be a burden to you.”

The man felt his heart was breaking, seeing the hesitance on his face. He looked scared and insecure. He wants to fly out all of a sudden to punish those people who had hurt the poor kid and make them feel all the pain they had brought to him in a double payment.

His eyes softening, Charlie lowered the quill grabbing a hold on both his hands. He raised one of them to cup his cheeks, whispering sweet words to appease his troubled feelings. “Harry, no. You are not causing anybody a burden. Not me, not Bill, not anybody. Do you understand?” He asked him, his voice sounding firm. “As your bonded, I will take full custody of you to protect you; to look after you, and to cherish you. And when the right time comes when you reach your proper age, I will take you as my life partner. We will be together in dealing with anything that comes along our way. Get?”

Slowly, Harry nodded his head.

“Good.” He couldn't help but squeeze his cheek for looking so adorable at that moment. And then, he turns to Ragnall who looked pleased with himself this whole time he was watching them, “once our bond becomes official, will there be anyone who can break the pact?”

“Not a chance.” The goblin said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Thus, smiling, Charlie took the quill once again and affixed his signature on every page. Once finished, the papers glowed blue and disappeared.

Ragnall was grinning maniacally.

“Now that that part has been settled, I recommend we perform the scan to check all the boy's injuries, Lord Prewett.” He suggested, which Charlie returned with a nod of approval.

Upon getting the redhead's consent, he all directed the three of them to another chamber that the goblins prepared for the ritual. Charlie was more attentive in guiding Harry to the short trip. He even held his hand to make sure he won't stumble along the way.

The room was smaller than the hall where they had their dinner. In the middle lies a pedestal where there's a huge bowl containing a mixture of potions in it. Next to it was another piece of parchment along with a quill. That must be used to record whatever appears on the scan.

“The alternate way to do this is to bring the boy to the hospital for magical maladies and injuries in St. Mungo's which I wouldn't recommend considering we are keeping him away from the public as of now.” The goblin king pointed out. He had with him two more of his assistants who must be the goblin counterpart for healers. They looked more professional though as if they really knew what they’re doing.

Charlie looked at Harry waiting for his final say. At first, the boy looked a bit confused. He hasn't been allowed to give his opinion before. So when Bill explained his options to him clearer, he nearly burst into tears having a group of people who made him feel like this, caring so much for him even his own feelings toward everything.

“I'd rather do it here.” He told them finally. “I trust all of you anyway.”

Smiling, Ragnall gave his instructions to the other goblins. They started the scan by checking on his outer appearance in which they noticed right away the small scars showing on different parts of his skin. Ragnall then took three drops of Harry's blood and added it to the mixture. Soon, the quill began its work by squiggling a long list of words on the scroll of everything wrong it could find inside the child's body. Once it's done, there's a ten-foot-long parchment that went right into Ragnall's hands. The goblin sported an angry scowl as he started reading the results of the scan.

“What's wrong? Blimey...” Bill's eyes have widened after reading the parchment Ragnall handed him over.

“Yes, William. These scars and scratches reveal signs of physical attacks on Heir Potter for such a long period of time. It doesn't even include the fresh ones yet that are listed on the bottom of the paper.”

He growled a few words in gobbledegook that sounded like a command which the healers complied. Ten minutes later, they're back with a tray of potions of different colors and sizes.

“Mister Potter, you need to take these potions at least three times a day before meals, and the ones with certain labels on it are to be taken once a day. These will regrow damaged bones, deformed muscles, and nutrient potions to improve your physique. The green vial is to improve your eyesight. It has to be treated at a gradual phase.” He advised. Harry nodded without any question.

He motioned a hand to Bill and Charlie who couldn't take their eyes off the long sheet of parchment. As they run through the injuries and his ailments, they're getting angrier by the minute. They’re planning on seeking revenge once they step out of that building.

“I want you to focus on the one listed on item number 62.” He directed them to the middle portion of the list. “Do you recognize that?”

Bill glanced, “wait... is that… oh no...”

“It is, indeed.”

“But... But how did he get something like it?”

Ragnall looked at both brothers grimly. “He must have gotten it from the Dark Lord when he tried to kill him when he was only a baby.”

Charlie glared between Bill and the goblin back and forth. “What is it, Bill? I don't understand.”

“A Horcrux!” His brother almost shouted. He looked completely stunned. “A powerful dark magic that's inside Harry right now.”

“What? No...” The color left the younger redhead’s cheeks as soon as he found out. He turned to look at Harry on the verge of tears falling. He couldn't imagine how much the kid has suffered at such a young age.

“We found it in his scar where the killing curse had hit him when he was only a baby. And the presence of such foul magic is blocking his core. It will prevent his magic from developing as he grows.”

“Then what should we do? We have to remove it from his body then. It... it is possible to do it, right?” Charlie's eyes are weary and pleading.

Ragnall gave another set of instructions to the healers. This time, they removed the bowl from the center of the hall replacing it with an armchair.

“Heir Potter, please take a seat.”

“Wha-what are you going to do?” The boy asks them, looking slightly nervous.

“Don't worry, Heir Potter. All you have to do is sit on the chair. We will perform the ritual to extract the dark magic out of your body. It has to be removed as this causes most of the damages to your health. One of them is your poor eyesight if I should say.”

Harry nearly blanched. He looked at Charlie and Bill who nodded their reassurance.

“This will not hurt you, young man but this can also be exhausting.” The goblin warned him.

“I understand, sir.”

The moment he settled in the couch, the rest of the goblins moved into position. The two Weasleys watched them muttering incantations in gobbledegook until such time that a purple light had glowed surrounding the chair where the young Potter heir was seated. The process was long and complicated. If they base it on the thick black smoke that has come out of his head, it looked as if it was trying to resist the magic that tries to take it out. The infernal scream that had followed was frightening coming from the said aura. Finally, they succeeded. They transferred whatever was left of the dark magic they took from Harry's head into a wooden totem and brought into another chamber to be destroyed.

At last, after what seemed like ages, they have finished the ritual. It left Harry falling unconscious on the couch although it showed good signs which is a good start.

“What happened?” A worried Charlie rusheed to the boy's aid.

“His body was drained from the extraction since the Horcrux tried to wound its way from being taken out of his system. Don't worry though. He should be fine in about an hour or so.” The goblin reassured them. “Why don't you take him to the other room so he can relax? We prepared rooms for the three of you.” He said, smiling. “It's too early in the morning. You all take your rest and we will continue the discussion tomorrow. As long as you are within our premises, no one is going to harm you.”

Charlie nodded and grinned. After all that had happened, he could feel his energy draining. He turned up as a hand landed on his shoulder to see Bill giving him the same look of encouragement.

“Tomorrow, I will have Gatwick discuss with you Heir Potter's accounts as well as his estates. I will be dropping by shortly to give Harry some prescriptions for his health's development.”

The two Weasley brothers thanked him and the other two healers. Another couple of minutes and they'd left the chamber with Charlie carrying Harry's small frame in his arms.


	5. Settling of Affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio will finalize their plans the next day.

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.

 _It was a dream,_ he told himself firmly. _Everything was only a dream. And in that dream, a tall, redheaded wizard named Bill came to take me into a bank owned by the goblins..._ _and when I open my eyes, I'll be at home in my cupboard._

Yeah. Right. That’s what he’d thought.

Then, there was suddenly a faint tapping noise.

 _Now, there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door,_ Harry thought again, his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream he didn't want to go back to his old life.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

“All right,” the boy grumbled. “I'm getting up.”

He sat up and a heavy blanket covered his frame. The room where he was at is brightly lit with what seems like a window that shows the sun shining. Next to him, lay another redhead, his hair tousled.

“Good morning, Heir Potter. How was your evening?” a goblin with an apron on his suit greeted them.

Harry beamed, glad to find out he wasn't dreaming. Everything that had happened was real. Bill, the rescue, the dinner, the goblins, everything! His heart was swelling with too much happiness that day.

“I'm good. Oh! Good morning to you too.” He tilted his head paying homage.

The goblin chuckled. Then, he said, “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. If you'd like to wash, there's a lavatory in that door on your right and I’ll set the table once you're done.”

“Okay.” He nodded and muttered his thanks. Just in time when Charlie shuffled in their bed. He blinked his eyes a few times before he showed the boy his handsome smile.

“Good morning,” he said to the little guy who was blushing like wildfire. “Had a great night?”

“Yeah,” a flushing Harry shyly replied. Soon after, Bill came in bustling into the room. He already looked energized from the stress they have gotten since taking him out of the shack the night before.

“Breakfast is ready, young lads,” he announced. “You better freshen yourselves up. Gatwick will be meeting us in an hour. So I say you should hurry. Up, up now. We still got plenty of things to do, mate.”

Charlie gestured a playful salute to his brother, chanting, “yes sir!” with an accompanying grin from Harry himself. “Why don't you take the bathroom first, kid? I'll shower next.” He said which the boy complied and ran to the door with haste.

Both brothers followed his movements with their gaze. A relieved look washed over their worried faces.

“He looks different,” Bill commented. And he was meaning it in a good way.

“Yeah. He looks healthier now. Unlike his state when you brought him here last night.”

The older guy nodded with a grimace. “I couldn't imagine what would've happened if I hadn't taken him out of his relatives. It could've been worse for him. Merlin forbid.”

Hearing it from Bill, Charlie's fists clenched. “I don't know what I might do to those monsters after everything they've done to the kid. Once we settle this whole thing, I want to seek revenge. Wanna join me?”

A feral smirk appeared on his brother's lips. “You're on, Charlie boy!” He fizzed.

Breakfast was an enjoyable affair. The two Weasleys indulged Harry in a plateful of bacon, sausages, and eggs. Charlie also insisted on a glass of milk. He said they're good for weak bones and will strengthen his magic better than any drink.

The boy felt pampered. Harry was so full, he was pouting through his meal as the two kept insisting to have him finish it all. He was halfway through forcing the remaining portions to his tummy when Gatwick came in bringing along the nutrient potions Ragnall advised him to take. It goes with a piece of parchment with all the prescriptions written by the king himself.

He couldn't believe it. There are so many, he couldn't imagine how he's going to consume all of them. Nevertheless, they left him with no choice but to follow orders after Bill lectured him about how these potions could help him improve his health.

An hour has passed. The trio had now gathered inside the account manager's office. He held in his hand a long list as well as a wooden chest which looked like a treasure box. “This chest contained all your lordship rings. We’re supposed to have you wear the heir ones, however, since we are to proceed with your emancipation, you will take an absolute headship to all the properties listed under your name with Lord Prewett’s supervision here, of course.” Gatwick explained to them which they all have accepted.

The older men spluttered at the numerous rings laid elegantly on the purple cushion inside the box. With all the houses he is about to govern, there’s no wonder the rings he has to put on are these innumerable.

“Do I really have to wear all of that?” The way Harry’s reaction turned told them he’s not excited to see his hands filled with those gleaming gems.

Both boys snickered while the goblin threw a lopsided grin, highly amused.

“Don’t worry. The rings are enchanted to join together once you wear them. Except for the ones that are from the House of Pendragon since that is a royal ring. The same goes for the ones owned by the founders, meaning, you only have to wear three of them. Would that be a problem?”

Harry slumped his shoulder against the back of his chair, pouting. He knew he had to do it anyway if he wanted to be safe. Though it doesn't mean that he has to like it anyway.

“We have to be careful in shoving all these to your fingers. The first time you wear them, they will test your capacity as their new lord. Your primary house first then to the last one which is the royal ring.”

“What happens if the ring finds him unfit for wearing it?” Charlie asked out of curiosity.

“He will die,” said Gatwick bluntly.

All three young men stared at the goblin wide-eyed. He could be joking, couldn't he?

He barked his laughter seeing them so terrified. “Don't worry. With a powerful wizard such as Heir Potter here, I don't think any ring would deny him of his lordship over them.” This time, their account manager sounded confident.

They felt a little better from what they’ve heard. Although Harry remained skeptical.

“Take this first.” Gatwick handed him over the royal blue bullring that bore the Potter Crest. “Since you are the only Potter left, it will recognize you right away as its sole heir and bearer.”

Harry nodded and accepted. He effortlessly slipped the ring into his middle finger which glowed revealing the silhouette of a stag.

“Excellent. It means your house has recognized you as its sole head from here onwards.”

“Brilliant.”

The next thing he had him wear were the rest of the houses except for those that Gatwick mentioned earlier. It didn’t give him a hard time putting them on other than the Black Lordship ring that vibrates, releasing a dark smoke as soon as it blended with the rest of his rings.

This time, it was Charlie who raised the question. “What happened?”

“The Black Family Ring was a bit reluctant to take Harry's lordship,” Gatwick told them. “See, the Blacks are a proud family. Other than the fact that the true heir is still alive and yet, incarcerated, he was known as a bad egg among the rest of them. It doesn't help that his godson happens to be Harry Potter himself.”

“Are they bad wizards?” Harry asked.

It was Bill who obliged to explain to him about the matter. “Most of them, actually. Well, your godfather, he wasn't as bad as how he was supposed to be. Until the day your parents died. See, something happened. It's a long story. We can talk about it at a later time.”

He nodded in concedement.

Next are the rings that belong to the founders. The moment he slid on the third of it, an image of a medieval castle hovered on his hand.

“That's Hogwarts.” The two redheads gasped.

“The school for wizards?”

“Yes.”

“That's where your parents went to study when they were younger.”

“Really? It's beautiful.”

“It is. Best school for magic in the world.”

As they speak, there was a burst of fire that came inside Gatwick’s office followed by a melodious sound of singing. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair on Harry’s scalp and made his heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that Harry felt it vibrating inside his own ribs, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.

A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock’s and gleaming golden talons, which spread wide like it's about to attack them soon.

A second later, the bird was flying straight at Harry. It wailed a last cry inside the chamber, then landed heavily on his shoulder.

As it folded its great wings, Harry looked up and saw it had a long, sharp golden beak and a beady black eye.

The bird stopped singing. It sat still and warm next to Harry’s cheek, nuzzling him affectionately like a mothering hen looking after its younglings.

“That’s a phoenix.” The rest of the room's occupants gaped.

“Dumbledore's bird,” Bill said at last.

“I can hear him say something,” Harry told them. “He says that technically, he belongs to the school and not the headmaster.”

Obviously, the others didn't see the flying creature speak at all.

“That makes sense. It recognizes you as its new master after you took the rings then.”

Everyone else agreed to Charlie's assessment.

The vermilion bird remained on Harry’s side as the older men went on in discussing his accounts. Three bullrings are now adorning his right hand. He listened attentively to most of the discourse although he could only catch up on some of it. He has come to realize as the new holder to a wide range of estates, he must learn about these things much sooner.

“In this list has all of Lord Potter’s properties — investments, territories, naval fleet, air fleet, and other valuable assets that wouldn’t fit in our vaults.” Gatwick indicated at the paper he held in his hand. “Before he accepted his headships, these assets were sealed by the goblins using family magic. But moving forward, these holdings are reactivated and are waiting for audit depending on your preferred approaches. I trust that you wouldn’t want to do this right now because of their volume, yes?”

Glancing at the long list, Bill’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He felt dizzy just thinking about all the properties he has to audit for his new ‘boss’. Not to mention, there are huge companies that are invested even in the muggle world.

“Blimey, Harry. You are one hell of a wealthy kid.” The redhead breathed. He ran a light scan on all the list before taking another look at the accommodating goblin. “I’ll be conducting a full review of these properties on Lord Potter’s behalf in the next few days. If we do it now, we wouldn’t have all day.” He tells him.

“As you see fit, Mister Weasley. You do it the way you want being his new property manager.”

“I will.” He affirmed. “What we can do now though is to see the rest of his vaults. I say those main ones that contain the things we need for his education.”

Gatwick conjured another piece of parchment. This time, it wrote down another long list of vaults whose number hadn’t gone far from the list of holdings Harry owns. “Overall, Lord Potter has 225 vaults. 50 of these contain gold, sickles, and knuts while the rest secure a wide collection of jewelry, heirlooms, books, portrait, potions, and other valuable objects. We can visit these vaults one by one if you have time within the day.”

Bill looked at Harry then at his brother. Their faces could easily say they’d prefer delaying it later since all these things are still overwhelming them. “We would like to see these items. Although as for now, we would prioritize the main vaults where we can get everything that we need.

“Very well. I will have Griphook escort you then. Griphook!”

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once the three boys had shuffled themselves out of their seats, Bill, Charlie, and Harry followed him toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

The goblin held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in —with some difficulty because there’re three of them— and were off.

At first, they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way because Griphook wasn’t steering.

Harry’s eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late— they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

“I never know,” Harry called to Bill over the noise of the cart, “what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?”

“Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it,” says the redhead who didn't bother recalling the features of the rocks. After working with these beings for more than a year, he'd learned it is not a good idea to open your mouth while on a roller coaster cart trip within the caves.

Charlie was the one who looked very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, all three of them got out and stood next to a massive wall.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mountains of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

“All yours,” both brothers smiled.

All Harry’s— it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn’t have known about this or they’d have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London.

Bill and Charlie helped Harry pile some of it into a bag. “The gold ones are Galleons,” he explained. “Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it’s easy enough. He put a mental note to speak to Gatwick, later on, to secure a credit card for the young lord. “That should be enough for now. The rest, we’ll settle it through a remote banking system.” He turned to Griphook. “We want to see the vaults containing the books and heirlooms, please?”

“One speed only,” said Griphook.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled around tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Charlie groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

Two stops more and they are now on their way back. Both boys have shrunken some of the valuable books they have gotten from the vaults they thought they’d need to teaching Harry to become a proper lord. They also added some portraits of a few family members. One of these was the portrait of three boys. One wore a pair of round glasses with messy black hair, the other one looks taller with hair of light brown, and the third one, the tallest with fair skin, a medium lustrous mat of black.

One wild cart ride later, they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. It was the first time Harry caught the pair of a massive silver door where two goblins are guarding it. It contains the words engraved in bold letters:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

“What does that mean?” Harry asked out of curiosity.

Bill grinned, looking at the kid, “it means you’d be mad to try and rob something from these goblins.”


	6. A Trip to Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry will experience his first visit to the magical shopping district.

Before they’d left the bank, Ragnall pulled the three boys into his office for a last-minute talk.

“Misters Weasley and Lord Prewett, as what we've discussed since the start of this operation, whatever we've been doing to keep Lord Potter's safety shall remain within the four corners of these halls. That goes the same as within the proximity of his house. And we are also expecting you to get the best location among his holdings as his permanent residence— may I suggest the safest and the most comfortable place that would suit his needs as the Great Potter Lord he deserves.”

Well, indeed, the boys need not be reminded in making sure Harry is well cared for. As Charlie's mate and Bill's new baby brother, they both agreed to protect him with their lives whatever they needed to do.

At long last, they were escorted by the goblins into the entrance. Harry didn’t know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn’t have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he’d had in his whole life— more money than even Dudley had ever had.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons of all Sizes— Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver— Self-Stirring— even a collapsible one, said a sign hanging over them.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” says Bill who pulled another envelope in his pocket. “This is a letter they sent you from Hogwarts.”

It’s the same letter his Uncle Vernon had been trying to take away from him in the last couple of days. Harry stretched out his hand to take the yellowish envelope addressed in emerald green with the same note as the one Bill had given him the night before they fled. He pulled out the letter and read:

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

Order of Merlin, First Class,

Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than Aug 31._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress._

Questions exploded inside Harry’s head like fireworks in which he couldn’t decide which to ask first. After a few minutes, he murmured, “what does it mean, they await my owl?”

“It means, they are waiting for you to respond to the letter by sending an owl to them.” Charlie calmly explained. “It’s how wizards exchange letters by the way. Which means, we’ll get you a new owl as our birthday present,” he added, his smile broadening.

Harry felt himself had gone red. “You don’t really have to—”

“I know, but I want to.” The redhead’s face had gone brighter. “It says something about a list. Why don’t you look at that? So we’ll know what else we need to buy today.” He suggested, changing the topic to make it less awkward for the kid.

The boy unfolded the second piece of paper he hadn’t noticed there when he opened the envelope first and read:

**_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT_ **

**_and WIZARDRY_ **

_UNIFORM_

_First-year students will require:_

  1. _Three sets of plain work robes (black)_
  2. _One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear._
  3. _One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_
  4. _One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_



_Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags._

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Schamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set of glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope set_

_1 brass scales_

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad._

_PARENTS ARE ALSO REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS!_

“Can we buy all this in London?” Harry wondered aloud.

“Well, my dear, Harry. Look around.”

And look around, he did. Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, “Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they’re mad!”

He looked up at his two guardians who are now grinning proudly next to him. “Welcome, Harry to Diagon Alley!” They both announced dramatically.

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying, Eeylops Owl Emporium— Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy.

Several boys of about Harry’s age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. “Look,” Harry heard one of them say, “the new Nimbus Two Thousand— fastest ever—”

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon.

“Harry, I’ll have to leave you here for a bit with Bill to take your measurements for your uniform. I’ll get you something when I return.” Charlie pulled him gently the moment they’ve reached in front of Madam Malkin’s shop. When he said he’ll leave him for a while to get something for him, he already had an idea what it was.

He just nodded, still blushing from the extra care he’d been getting from these two gentlemen. As Harry stepped into the door, Bill offered to stay outside to guard the vicinity from any potential trouble.

“Hogwarts, dear?” A squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve asked him. “Got the lot here— another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.

“Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yes,” said Harry.

“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.

“Have you got your own broom?” the boy went on.

“No,” said Harry.

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“No,” Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

“I do— Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?”

“No,” Harry replied awkwardly, feeling more stupid by the minute.

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they? But I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family had been— imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmm,” Harry hummed, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting instead of looking dumb.

“I say, look at that man!” said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Bill was standing there eyeing everyone passing by like a hawk.

“Oh, that’s Bill.” The raven-haired boy piped in, glad to know something the blonde git didn’t. “He works at Gringotts.”

“He does look like he does. Red-hair, tattered clothes, I wonder how much they pay him though.”

“He’s a cursebreaker.” Harry tried hard not to roll his eyes. He was liking the boy less and less every second.

“Doesn’t sound like a cool job to me.”

“I think he’s brilliant,” Harry said coldly. He did find Bill cool. Let alone, Charlie. Those boys looked like they won’t go out of place in a rock concert and they favored boots of dragon hide which he’d learned are of the highest quality. Bill does look he’s well to do, doesn’t he?”

“Do you?” Said the boy with a slight sneer. “Why is he with you anyway? Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead.” That was all Harry said. He didn’t feel much like going into the matter with the dunderhead.

“Oh, sorry.” Though he doesn’t even sound sorry at all. “But they were our kind, weren’t they?”

“They were a witch and a wizard if that’s what you mean.”

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”

But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, “That’s you done, my dear,” and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” said the drawling boy.

He was rather quiet when he stood next to Bill after the lady told him he can leave. (The robes will be sent via owl post in a couple of days).

“What’s up?” Bill finally voiced out.

“Nothing, Harry lied. His face somewhat brightened seeing Charlie returning carrying a large cage that held a beautiful snowy white owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn’t stop stammering his thanks, sounding like a duck who got his bill stuck into the pond.

“Don’t mention it,” Charlie brushed his thanks off gruffly. “We don’t expect you’ve had a lot of presents from the Dursleys.” He had no idea how much less Harry has been getting presents from his relatives since he was a baby.

The boy cheered up since then. But his curiosity didn’t stop him from asking the two anyway. “What’s Quidditch?”

Both boys went pale. “Blimey, Harry. We keep forgetting how little you know about magic— not knowing about Quidditch.”

“Don’t make me feel worse.” His narrow eyes heed a warning. He finally decided to bring up the incident about the pale boy in Madam Malkin’s.

“—and he said people from muggle families shouldn’t even be allowed in.”

“You’re most definitely not from a muggle family, Harry. If he’d known who you were, he’s grown up knowing your name if indeed his parents are wizarding folks. What does he know about it? Some of the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in them in a long line of muggles. Look at your mum! Look at what she had for a sister!”

“So what is Quidditch then?”

“It’s a sport, actually.,” Charlie explained. “A wizarding sport. It’s like— like football in the muggle world. Everyone follows it—played up in the air on broomsticks and there are four balls— I’ll teach you how to play it soon.”

“Charlie boy here use to be a player back in his Hogwarts days.” Bill chided playfully.

“Really? Was it fun?”

There’s a glimmer in the younger redhead’s glances. “Bloody hell, yeah. It is fun indeed.”

“I heard he mention something about Slytherin and Hufflepuff. I know Slytherin but what’s Hufflepuff?”

“She’s also one of the founders. The only member who’s not under your lordship. And their names, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff are all school houses. The hat will sort you among these four houses on your first day in school. Well, everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot of duffers but—”

“Hey! That’s not true. I’ve got friends from Hufflepuff and they’re brilliant.” Charlie retorted. “Bill and I were both sorted in Gryffindor back in our days.” He added.

“I bet I’ll be in Hufflepuff,” said Harry gloomily.

“You’ll be great no matter which house you are gonna be put in,” Bill reassured him. “Though I wonder what your three great ancestors will say if you wouldn’t be sorted in any of their houses. They’d probably be rolling in their graves.”

The three of them ended up laughing together over the thought of it.

They bought Harry’s schoolbooks in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Charlie almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly- Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

“I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley.”

“I’m not saying that’s not a good idea, but you are not to use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances,” said Bill. “We’ll discuss that matter as we go along the way later.” A mischievous smirk showed up on his face saying the man had something playing in his head that is both dangerous and wicked.

Bill contemplated whether allowing Harry to buy a solid gold cauldron, (“it says pewter on the list, and we don’t want to catch too much attention”). Although they’d got him a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope.

Then, they visited the apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Bill asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for the boy, Harry himself examined some silver unicorn horns at twenty-one galleons each and minuscule glittery-black beetle eyes (five knuts a scoop).

Outside the apothecary, Bill checked Harry’s list again.

“Just your wand left— though I think it would be better if we buy it somewhere else. Any wands bought within Britain are monitored by the ministry of magic. And we don’t want them to make known you have purchased your own wand today.” The older young man winked.

“There’s a Ministry of Magic?” Harry asked before he could stop himself.

“’Course,” Charlie replied. “I heard they wanted Dumbledore for Minister, but he’d never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. But after everything he did to meddle with your accounts, I don’t know anymore what to think of that man.”

“But what does a Ministry of Magic do?”

“Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there’s still witches and wizards up and down the country.”

“Why?”

“Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone would be wanting magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we’re best left alone.”

Harry nodded, seemingly convinced. He didn’t ask any more questions until they’d got inside a restaurant located in the alley’s western district. After all, he’s already quite famished.

Bill had also compelled Harry into shopping for a new set of clothes. So after a fancy lunch at the restaurant and dessert at an ice cream shop (they sold numerous flavors Harry has not seen in his life), they dragged the kid into Muggle London to get himself a new wardrobe. The redhead had talked him into understanding the importance of his status in the society of wizards, and that includes maintaining a good image.

Thus, after a few hours, the trio came out of Burlington Arcade with bags after bags of new shirts that fit and different designs of V-necked cardigans that are highly exquisite. Bill also insisted on a couple of vests that made his body longer (the redhead’s words), formal and casual wear for all occasions, coats for all seasons, and a wide array of pleated shorts that was suitable for eleven-year-olds. He even persuaded the kid to a salon to get his messy hair trimmed. When finished, the unruly mat of jet had turned into something stylish.

Overall, they gave Harry a full makeover. Charlie couldn’t help but whistle seeing the boy transform into a young teenager. Gone was the boy who looked lost and battered wearing oversized clothes that are handovers from his whale of a cousin. What he sees before his eyes is a handsome young man fit to look like a king himself.

“Tomorrow, we’ll have your eyes checked,” Bill says. “Those eyeglasses of yours look hideous.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t know how good he can look if only properly dressed. He smiled upon seeing his reflection in the mirror. Bill has good taste when it comes to male fashion.

It’s way past noon. Looks like it’s time to go home now.

“I know you’re both tired. Ideally, we’re supposed to be taking you to one of your houses, but since we haven’t decided on which of these places are best to dwell on yet, I suggest we all retire to my flat to take a rest. Besides, it’s closer from here. We can start house hunting tomorrow morning.”

The other two agreed. They could feel the soreness down to their feet.

“Charlie boy, you know where my place is, do you?”

“Yup, I do.”

“Good. Now, take all Harry’s bags and I’ll side apparate him there.” Bill ignored the pout his brother had shown on his face.

Harry could only smile over these two redhead’s funny antics. He held an arm out for Bill to take the lead.

  
  



	7. Plotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two Weasley brothers will be all out in executing the plans to make sure their little guy is safe

Now that he looked at it, Bill wasn’t expecting this big challenge he’s facing looking after the boy-who-lived. There’s a mixture of emotions as he watches Harry dozing comfortably in his bedroom. He seems so tired and at the same time, content. That’s what he could read when a smile cracked on his angelic face. He had Charlie take the other room right on the other side of the hallway. Since his frequent visits to his Brother’s flat made him claim it like he owns the place.

Also, he refused to allow him to share the room with the boy. “I trust your heart, brother o’mine, but as the decent man, you can possibly be, why don’t you give him some privacy? Or do I have to remind you that he’s only eleven, eh? Charles Septimus Weasley!”

A smack plopping on the back of his head startled the older Weasley blinking. He ended up taking the couch in the living room as punishment for his incredulity.

Bill stared into nothingness, glancing up from the report he was writing. It’s funny to think he grabbed on the opportunity of moving to a new assignment somewhere closer to his family and ended up hiding from them. He couldn’t even send them an owl and talk to anyone about his whereabouts. For now, his priority is to keep Harry away from public eyes and his nosy mom is not the best person to keep her mouth shut.

Thus, after thorough self-debates and long conversations with his brother, both boys agreed to hold their plans of seeing any of the family members yet.

The three young men have been busy handling the situation in the next couple of days. While Bill had gone exchanging messages with the goblins in choosing the best place for the little king to stay, Charlie took Harry to a private medi-witch. They were introduced to Dr. Maryweather, a muggle-born who handles special eye care for both muggles and magical beings.

The boy looked nervous as soon as they made it in front of her office door. Charlie had to hold him by the hand with his other on his back massaging it gently to calm him down.

“You alright, little one?” The young man notices him fidgeting. Harry’s lips are quivering.

“I’m scared.” The small guy admitted.

Charlie offered a reassuring gaze, saying, “don’t worry, everything will be okay, Harry.”

They were greeted by a sylphlike woman who was beaming brightly when she came in, hiding her surprise the moment she realized who her clients were.

“Hi, boys.” She grinned. “I see we have Mr. Potter to check his eyes today?”

“Yes,” they both nodded.

She can tell judging by the bad pair of glasses Harry was wearing. The woman took the paper Charlie handed her along with a letter of confidentiality she requires to sign swearing secrecy of their visit. She gleefully complied and yet frowned at the written findings on the other piece of parchment. After going through the notes, she motioned, “come, darling. Let me look at those beautiful eyes of yours.”

The young man conformed and walked shyly toward her. The lady pulled out her wand, swirling it to a complicated pattern. A string of magic appeared and then ascended into his head.

“I take it your eyes were damaged by a curse,” Dr. Maryweather told him after performing the scan. Obviously, she knew what type of curse it was judging by the horrified look she gave them. “Usually, we use a special spell to remove it.” She explained. “Good thing the healers have managed to siphon it away before the residual dark magic would have damaged your eyesight wholly. Never mind the fact that it could’ve put your life in danger. I just don’t understand why no one had seen it back then. We could have prevented the chances of you getting blind.”

Charlie frowned, “what do you mean? Are you saying his scar has never been tended to on purpose?”

“It’s possible. I don’t want to jump to conclusions but the fact that a simple diagnostic charm could’ve detected the signs, it’s inconceivable they did nothing to eliminate it at the first chance.”

Charlie’s hands squeezed tightly into a ball of a fist. He couldn’t believe what he’d heard from the healer insinuating another anomaly from the headmaster’s machinations. The young man reminded himself to add it to the things he would be discussing with Bill later. If his instincts have told him right, the old coot must be planning something that could harm the boy anytime.

After another round of tests, and they were done. Dr. Maryweather wrote a list of prescriptions for Harry’s eyes that would help improve his vision. She also recommended a new pair of glasses whilst waiting for them to fully develop. The old ones he was using can be harmful according to her which they willingly disposed of.

Hence, both boys spent the next few hours browsing through a wide selection of frames. They settled on a pair of silver wires with half rims that makes it look like it’s barely there. It didn’t occur to them though that the new frames would reveal more of the beauty in Harry’s emerald green eyes.

Charlie is stunned. He felt madly in love.

“The glasses should be ready in about an hour,” they were told. That led the two of them inside a small café to have lunch while waiting. It’s not too far from the clinic anyway. And the food they serve there is somewhat interesting. Charlie had never been to a Muggle restaurant while Harry, well, he’s been deprived of these luxuries ever since.

Whereas enjoying themselves on their pasta and mango salad, Harry noticed a few pairs of couples acting intimately with each other. It made him look back and forth between the man in front of him and his plate. His cheeks turning pink. A question popping up in his head, asking, are he and Charlie doing the same thing?

“I have something to ask if it’s okay.”

“What is it?”

“What do wizards do after they finish Hogwarts?” It was intended to divert his thoughts somewhere else. If he’s not being clever, heaven knows what it is he just did. He’s just glad to be away from the strange awkwardness in their surroundings.

Charlie snorted over the excessive expressions of being polite. He couldn’t blame him after everything he’d been through though. So, he ignored the bizarreness and answered, “well, it depends. Whatever you wanna do. Wizards find jobs after they graduate, you know. Look at Bill. He’s a cursebreaker. As for me, I work with dragons. I help in taming them.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Really?” He gasped.

He had only recently found out that dragons do exist. Now he’s looking at someone who’d been spending a lot of time with them. The boy had always fancied those creatures the first time he read about dragons in a public library. He so loved the stories depicting their greatness and power. As a result, he hounded the redhead with numerous questions about dragons marveling at the new knowledge he had gotten from his favorite Weasley.

Well, of course, Charlie was more than happy to regal him with stories about his adventures with his fire-breathing friends. There’s glimmering in his eyes while he talks which Harry recognized as pure compassion. There’s this warm surge of happiness he could feel listening to every detail of his words. He was sure his heart giggled deep inside to learn something new about the man. Both boys were so engrossed in their conversation until they realized they’ve been in the café for more than two hours. If none of the staff members approached them asking if they still wished to order anything else, they wouldn’t have noticed the time and hurry back to pick up Harry’s new glasses.

The two are still talking enthusiastically about dragons on their way back to Bill’s flat. They stumbled upon the older Weasley shuffling through papers after papers in the sitting room, brows furrowed, his eyes focused on whatever it is written in those sheets of parchments he was so engrossed working on.

“Wow, Harry. Those glasses look good on you, mate.” The redhead commented when he looked up a few minutes later. He could see the boy’s eyes clearly that Bill himself couldn’t help but get mesmerized. He’d thought eyes as attractive as those as Harry’s should be illegal. If he alone got entranced on those pairs of lovely jewels, how much more, dear Charlie here who happens to be his soul bonded?

Bill could only wish his little brother good luck in silence with a smirk.

Harry, on the other hand, gave his new guardian a shy smile. The latter strutted forward ruffling his hair before showing him some of the papers he pulled from the stack he was holding at. He looked up staring at him with bewildered eyes.

“We found three houses suitable for you to live in, young man,” Bill told him, pointing at each of the parchments in the boy’s hands and explaining each of the properties in detail. “We have the Potter Mansion in London, the Raven’s Hamlet in Scotland, and the summer palace in Bucharest.”

“What?” Charlie splutters, “Bucharest you say?”

“Well, yeah. What makes it more surprising is that that property is enclosed within a hundred-mile radius of the dragon reserve.”

The young ginger was astonished. Didn’t they talk about his work with Harry just earlier? Now, here gawks the boy turning out to be the reserve’s primary owner.

“Ho-how did it happen?”

A grin is now smearing across Bill’s cunning face. He knew his brother would be surprised by the new information he’d discovered. “It turns out that the House of Lavigne had lent a parcel of land to the dragon handlers in the last few centuries when the reserve was founded.” He explained. “On a condition that the said family will take charge in handling the finances as the operation rolls up and running.”

Charlie collapsed on a nearby chair. He couldn’t almost believe it. First, he met the-boy-who-lived, then he was his soulmate. Now, as it turns out, Harry was his boss— ‘technically’ speaking.

The man was busy contemplating when suddenly, three little creatures of about three feet tall popped up in front of them, with spindly arms and legs, bat-like ears, and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. They all rose to their feet and bowed so low that the end of their long, thin, noses touch the carpet. Harry noticed they are wearing tablecloths with different crests that looked like some of those he wore on his lordship rings.

“Er— hello,” says the boy nervously.

“Young Master Harry Potter, sir.” The one who seems the oldest greeted in a high-pitched yet croaked voice. “So long has Cooper and the others have waited to see you again, sir. Such an honor it is…”

“Th-thank you,” the green-eyed young man stammered in surprise. At first glance, he already knew they were house elves. Just like those who paraded around him inside Ragnall’s office. So instead of asking what they are, he asked, “who are you?”

“Cooper sir, Cooper the head of the Potter House-elves.” Said the creature. The other elves he’s with did the same gesture by introducing themselves as Gidget and Sadie respectively. Gidget, as it turns out, was the head house elf of the House of Lavigne while Sadie forefronted those elves who were from the House of Ravenclaw.

“Really?” exclaimed an amazed Harry.

Bill cleared s his throat before the three eager little servant creatures could answer his question. “After we have activated the wards of the three houses we have selected, these lovelies came to me asking for instructions. They are expecting their great master to live with them to serve him the way he deserves. And among house elves, it’d be a great honor for them.”

“Master Wheezy was right.” The three nodded their heads, ignoring Bill’s incredulous stares over the nickname he was given. “Us elves in the Potter Manor were told by young master’s father to take good care of young master soon. And we so happy when Goblin King told us he will help rescue our young master in his relatives’ home.”

Harry stared at the oldest house-elf who was Cooper. “My dad used to live there?” He asked the question he was already told just to make sure.

“Yes! Young Master Harry Potter, sir. Masters Jamie and Mistress Lily lived there, and they love young master so much, they made us elves swear with our magic to protect you no matter what.”

“They did?” The little guy couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Harry can feel his tears hearing such words from someone else, especially magical creatures who seem to only speak the truth about his mother and father.

The three house elves nodded again confirming Cooper’s statement.

Once again, Bill jumped into their little bubble of conversation. “Cooper, Gidget, and Sadie. Make sure to get your respective houses ready as soon as possible. Furnish it with anything Young Master Harry Potter needs— the rooms, the library, the lawn, the grounds, every part of the vicinity. Make it as livable as you can.”

“Yes, Master Wheezy.”

He then turned to Harry after the servants disappeared, “I figured you wish to stay at the Potter Manor after hearing this, yes?”

The boy nodded. He wanted to see the house where his parents had once dwelt.

“Then, let’s settle in there. The Potter Manor will serve as your official residence since its location is in Central London. It’ll be easy for us to go back and forth from there to the ministry or Diagon or if you wish to tour the muggle world.” Bill enlightened him. “Meanwhile, since most part of your life in the next seven years will be spent in Scotland (That’s where Hogwarts is located, he was told), we will move to Raven’s Hamlet during those months. That way, I could easily check on you from time to time. That being said, I will be sending a letter to the school allowing you to stay there on the weekends.” And lastly, the older Weasley pointed at the paper showing the photo of a gothic chateau made of diamond-crystal. “Obviously, during the summer, we will be staying at the summer palace for your training. It basically has everything that would help you learn about our world and how to protect yourself from its dangers. It has a massive dueling hall, fencing hall, horse racetrack, and a library that contains almost every book that is prohibited in Britain.” He squinted his eyes at Charlie who already knows now what he’s about to say next. “This is also where you, little brother will be staying while at work considering its proximity from the reserve.”

“Does that mean I can only see you in the summer?” Harry sounded a bit sad when he asked the older redhead. It looks like he’s not looking forward to the possibility of being away from his new friend even for just a moment.

“No, Harry.” Bill corrected him. “We will make sure he will be able to visit you in Scotland at least every weekend and during the holidays.”

He felt better when he heard his guardian say it. As much as he wanted to always be on Charlie’s side, he doesn’t want to take the guy away from his job and his passion for dragons. It would be too selfish of him to do such a thing.

“In fact, that is where we will be spending most of the time starting tonight.” The older redhead’s announcement lifted their spirits. “Although we also need to visit the rest of your holdings even once in a while. That way, we can start auditing each of them sooner.”

He’s fine with it. He’s actually fine with everything for as long as he’s with Charlie whichever part of the earth they’d be taking him. So Harry agreed.

He didn’t even protest when Bill announced they’ll be leaving that very same day for Bucharest.

“It’s just… it’s just…” Harry stammered.

“What is it, little brother?” The older Weasley starts to worry by now.

“Err, I haven’t been outside the country before, you know? My aunt and uncle didn’t bother to and… and…”

Their eyes softened as they lay their gazes at him. “Harry, from now on, you don’t have to fear your relatives anymore. Everything your aunt and uncle deprived you of, we will make it up twice than double. Whatever it is, no matter what, we will do anything for you, young man. We’ll always be here for you, you understand?”

“But… I— I don’t have a passport.” He told them at last. He remembered his Aunt Petunia constantly babbling, reminding her husband to the point of hysteria when they’ve made some plans to go to France. When she said they’ll be in trouble with immigration about incomplete papers, they fuss about it a lot as if they’d be sentenced to jail as illegal immigrants.

Bill’s brows are furrowed, “Don’t worry about the password, Harry. We only had the wards set as of the moment and it is you who will be deciding what the password is and who is allowed to enter your properties anyway.”

The boy absently scratched the back of his neck from the redhead’s innocent comment. It looks pretty clear he didn’t understand what he’d just said. “I mean, I don’t have a passport, not ‘password’, Bill.”

Confusion worsens all over the place.

“What on earth is a passport?”

“They’re travel papers required when you go outside the country, you know.”

A roar of laughter broke the silence between them.

“Harry, we don’t need those,” Bill reassured him after pulling himself back together. “All we need is this,” he showed his little boss a pen made of ivory. “This is called a portkey. All you have to do is touch it and when you say the right word, it will take us to Bucharest like we usually do when we travel. You get it?”

The boy nodded his head. Harry touches the fountain pen as he was instructed. Charlie followed suit. Then, it happened immediately. He felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground. Harry could feel the redheads on either side of him, their shoulders banging against his. His forefinger was stuck to the cap as though it was pulling him magnetically onward and then— his feet slammed into the ground. Charlie staggered into him, but the dragon keeper managed to pull him by the arm. The portkey landed on solid earth next to him with a soft clutter.

Harry looked up. Both boys are still standing, though looking windswept. Charlie’s hand still wrapped tightly around his shoulder making sure he was okay.

He whirled around. The beautiful scenery made him gasp. This young Potter Lord had never seen such a magnificent view— the grass moving in steady waves, those long heads of golden seeds as calming as harbor glades. Harry found himself in the middle of a field, a palette of greens and sun-strengthened grass. Like a divine fingerprint, curving and changing, no two parts the same. In all the world this view was unique, such is the way of the magical world. The dip and sway of the land, the patterns, and species of flora, the ever-changing formation of sky and wind.

From afar, he could make out some shadows fluttering. They look like wings and they’re flipping.

“Are those…?”

“Yeah, mate. Those are dragons.” Charlie exhaled as dramatically as he could manage. “Welcome to Romania, Harry.” He breathed in his ear.

  
  



	8. Preparing His Lordship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry will start his training under the supervision of Bill. It turns out he has a lot of things to learn in this new world where he belongs.

Harry stood there for a while entranced by the beauty of his surroundings. While trailing his gazes back and forth between the valleys and the snow-capped peaks, his redheaded guardian has started searching for clues of the chateau’s hiding place. From the pockets of his trousers, Bill pulled off an expansive sheet that turned out to be a map. He looked around as he tried to locate the landmarks indicating a few references.

“It says here that the summer palace is located in front of an intersecting road secluded by a small woodland of silver birch trees. It lies within a clearing guarded by the statue of a spewing dragon surrounded by basilisks.”

The image flickered inside Charlie’s head like a flash of lightning. “I think I know where it is. But that clearing you were talking about, Bill, is occupied by a nesting Antipodean Opaleye right now. Merlin! She’s not the friendliest among their type. Trust me, we upset her, she’ll burn us out.” He shuddered at the thought of trying to shoo away a vicious creature from its dwelling camp.

The other redhead sighed frustratingly. The goblins didn’t mention the dragon when he consulted them about the said property. He did not want to be pushy, but he also wanted to take the risk. It’ll cost them too much trouble if the matter of resettling a reluctant magical beast is brought to the attention of the handlers themselves.

“Where is it? Can you show me the way?”

The younger Weasley nodded his head and led them into a trail. “It shouldn’t be far from here.” He told them. Soon enough, the Silver Birchwoods came into view. They also found the intersection of the road that was indicated a little while ago.

Good thing the place wasn’t really as dense as they’d thought it was. Only enough to create a shade obscuring whatever lies within that vast clearing a few feet away.

“Ha! Found it,” Bill yelled triumphantly as soon as he spotted the statue of the dragon standing right beside the trail. “They hid one of the ward stones beneath this figure over here. Look at that. A stroke of genius. Brilliant!” He grumbled. Bill motioned to the stone ball lying beneath the statue’s claws.

“Harry, come ‘ere.” He called.

The young man complied, trotted forward as fast as he can.

“I need three drops of your blood on this thing. It should do the trick. Then we’ll definitely find it.”

Harry extended his hand with his index finger laid out. Using his wand, Bill created a small cut for blood to drip into the stone.

The effect was instantaneous. Like a fantasy movie scene with all the special effects, Harry’s magic had changed the entire appearance of that little forest. The silver birch trees uprooted themselves congregating an arrangement of six. A few moments later, a massive wall with iron grill bars rose in the air. All three boys stared open-mouthed in a daze. What stood before them is a three-storied building about 1210 feet long consisting of a middle house and two side wings. Judging their faces, Harry, Bill, and Charlie must have never seen a house that big.

“Where’s the dragon?” Bill asked dumbly. “You said it’s supposed to be guarding this place, right?”

As if on cue, the shadow of a huge flying creature passed by straight over their heads. Harry nearly fell off his feet as soon as he looked up. A beautiful dragon with pearly white scales lining its body plopped into the ground. She straightened herself and spread her wings as if about to spit fire burning the three young men in rage. But as it turns out, she bowed her head and then took off into the sky all over again.

“What on Merlin’s balls was that?” Bill asks no one. He was simply scared.

“She just said, ‘welcome back’ and that her job guarding the palace has ended upon my arrival,” Harry responded.

Both boys gaped at him wide-eyed. “You can understand what she said?”

“Wasn’t I supposed to?”

Charlie looked at the boy as if he were Merlin‘s reincarnation. “Harry, you have no idea how valuable that gift it is that you have.” He told him. “We spent hundreds of years trying to understand their behavior studying them and no one had known their language at all.”

Bill rolled his eyes trying not to smack his brother for talking too much about his favorite creatures. They have other things right now to focus on. “Now, now.” He admonished. “Why don’t we get inside while I inspect the wards? Although the way I look at it, there is not that much change needed. And I like the way the family magic splendidly hid the place. I guess it is best that we keep it that way.”

Soon enough, the majestic gates gilded with gold opened for them. They couldn’t help but gasp at the beautiful, terraced gardens on the front yard of the mansion. There are numerous marble staircases decorated with statues and fountains everywhere. Gidget magically pops up before the palace main entrance, greeting the three young men with a welcoming vibe.

“Young Master Harry Potter, sir.” The house-elf squeaked excitingly. “Welcome to the Summer Palace of the Levigne Family. We’s your servants so happy to see you.” There’re tears in his saucer-like eyes speaking to the young Potter Lord. Shortly thereafter, no less than thirty house-elves popped up making their appearance to greet their new master. They all expressed the same tearful joy serving their young head of the house.

The three gentlemen were ushered inside. Gidget offered them tea as he directed them to the sitting room on the west wing side. They spent half an hour loosening themselves and once they recovered their strength, all boys accepted the house elf’s offer to tour them around. It took them more than four hours wandering the halls and take note: It doesn’t even include peeking at the third and more than half of the second floor.

At first, Harry thought nothing could beat his amazement over the existence of house-elves.

It turns out, he was mistaken.

In the middle of the tour, the boy realizes the paintings inside that house all talk and move.

“Does a wizard's house always have paintings like that?” Harry couldn't help but blurt his curiosity out.

“Well, sort of all of them. Why? Do muggles' pictures don’t move at all?” Bill looked incredulous at the idea of immobile pictures people would have in their homes. (That would be boring!) He frowned as he laid down his reasons.

“No,” He scowled at the portrait of a man who keeps shoving his finger into his nose. He couldn’t imagine the horror in his aunt and uncle’s eyes if ever they see one.

They stumbled on a heap in the sitting room three hours later.

Charlie buried himself to the soft couch next to the fireplace. “Merlin! That was exhausting.” He groaned.

“Makes me dread about the next few days inspecting each of these rooms before deeming them safely inhabitable.” Said Bill in a bored tone.

While Harry remained seated on his own couch without saying anything more. He looked around him. It’s pretty clear he still hadn’t got used to the sudden change his life had turned out to become.

“You okay, Harry?” A worried Charlie looked at him.

“Yeah. It’s just… this is all new to me, you know.” He admitted sheepishly.

Bill offered him an encouraging smile, saying, “which you should be living with your entire life. This place is yours from the time you were born, young man. You shouldn’t have grown up living under the roof of your monsters of an uncle and aunt.”

The younger Weasley rose to his feet approaching the downhearted young man in his seat. He took both his hands and held them gently, “Harry, remember what we told you the first time we’ve met? Remember when we told you we’ll never leave you alone?”

The kid nodded his head slowly.

“Then, you should trust us more. I know it’s hard. But we will be here for you always. I know you’re bothered. You might be worried. But know this, Harry. Bill and I are coming up with something that’d make sure no one would dare take you away from here. No one will have the right to put you back to those neglectful muggles. We even consider filing charges. After all, child neglect is no joke. Anyone who would put their toe out of the line will have to face my wrath first.”

Bill glanced at his brother. He can feel Charlie’s magic lashing out. Had he not known what causes him to feel like this, he’d be worried sick. But it’s his instinct who shares half of Harry’s soul that makes him want to tear things. Despite their feelings for each other remaining as that of a platonic one, the dominant’s urge to protect his younger mate is still too powerful to ignore.

Charlie did the same thing with Bill. He threw meaningful gazes which meant they both needed to talk after putting young Harry to bed. They’ve come to realize stronger measures need to be made to ease the boy’s worries.

Not too long, Gidget announced dinner. Once again, they were awed by the sumptuous feast served before them on the table. The house-elves went out and about preparing the most delicious meals probably in honor of their master, Harry.

“Merlin, I can live here for the rest of my life,” Charlie commented. “I think I’m gonna turn fat in the next couple of months.”

The other boys chuckled yet they all agreed that’s probably what is going to happen to all of them.

Harry thought living with the two redheads was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He finally had come to experience the true meaning of living in a family with Charlie and Bill. The dragon handler was more like a brother who spoils him rot, letting him enjoy his life being a child while Bill, though he knew he’s only a few years older than Charlie was the stern one. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have a father but the way Bill was treating him makes him feel like it, well, that must be the closest comparison to it.

Two days after they moved into the summer palace, his owl had arrived who flew all the way from Bill’s flat. Harry was so happy to see her after days of getting worried she may not be able to find them despite the older men reassuring him that owls are more clever than they seemed. The boy had decided to name her Hedwig, a name he had found in one of the books he’d read and sounded so much pleased by it. She seems to like their new place as well. Hedwig would swoop in and out of the open window of his room whenever she wanted, bringing back dead mice expecting praise from her new friend.

Charlie also took him for another shopping spree at The Bârlogul in Bucharest. It is a smaller version of Diagon Alley in Romania though more fascinating and unique (in Charlie’s opinion, that is) with all those strange things they found in every shop along the way.

The purpose was to buy Harry his own wand. Aside from being free from the monitoring of any wizarding authority, the wands made outside of Britain if not as good may be even more reliable.

“Gregorovitch is the best around here,” Charlie tells them confidently as they strode their way to an old shop in a corner. They were introduced to a burly looking man, of later age but seemingly younger than he looked like. He was over the moon when he realized he just had Harry Potter as his customer that day. Even more flattered that the famous young man chose him instead of the more preferable, Ollivander.

They left his shop after less than an hour with an ecstatic Harry admiring his first wand. Made from rowan with a thunderbird’s tailfeather core, he couldn’t wait to go back to his room to practice a few of those spells he’d read in his spellbooks. Mr. Gregorovich also added a few give-aways including a wand servicing tool kit and a fancy-looking wand holster as a gift. He even joked about feeling proud his name will soon appear in history books for making the wand for the-boy-who-lived.

His actual lessons began in the next few days. Harry spent about eight hours a day in his office with piles after piles of books towering his desk. From “A History of Magic” to “10 Thousand Ways to Disgrace One’s Lordship”, plus, a few books on proper wizarding behavior and etiquette.

“I can’t believe you made me involved in this rubbish,” Charlie muttered incredulously to his brother who at that time held a long whacking stick in one hand. He used it to whack their hands whenever they choose the wrong cutlery in picking up the food on the table.

“As Lord Prewett and a future consort to the king, you have to learn to effectively use these things. We don’t want you acting like a pig over dinner parties and making a fool of yourself.” Bill explained with narrow eyes. Harry was snickering on the other side. Between the two of them, Charlie got the most swollen hand for committing too many mistakes. The confusion makes him lose his appetite.

“I don’t get why I have to use so many knives and forks in a meal.” He scowled at the numerous quantities of silverware of different uses and sizes on each side of his dinner plate.

“You should be thankful it’s not Aunt Muriel who taught you all these rules. Or do you want me to send an owl for her to step in?”

The color left Charlie’s cheeks hearing the name of his mother’s cousin. The old Lady Prewett is known among her nephews as a woman they don’t want to mess around with. She can be as vicious as a vulture in her own ways.

The idea left the younger redhead pouting in concession to his fate.

Yup. As it turns out, Charlie officially became Bill’s student in learning the pureblooded ways as well. He sat along with Harry who enjoys learning a lot especially having a good teacher like Bill himself. It didn’t help that he was given a month-long vacation by his boss from working in the reserve out of the thrill of having Harry Potter living within their enclosure. Thus, his vacation was tied up with lessons about family history, politics, economy, dining etiquette, good manners and right wizarding conduct, dueling, archery, horseback riding, and even swordsmanship. He was scandalized upon discovering that flying on a broomstick is classified as un-lordlike. Worse, he was compelled to dispose of his dragon-hide clothes to a completely new set of wardrobes. Like his mate, Charlie was given a complete make-over much to his colleague’s amusement. His new looks became a laughing stock among his friends and most likely, even the dragons themselves.

“Billy, I swear, I’m going to kick you after this.” The red headed young man winces after the tenth time Harry stepped on his feet. He made sure it wasn’t the boy’s fault despite apologizing profusely but it’s his arsehole of a brother whom he was sure did it on purpose teaching them how to dance to mess with him.

“Dancing is part of the purebloods’ social life,” Bill explained. “It makes it possible for two enemies to talk civilly without hexing each other’s bums.”

Charlie could only roll his eyes. With his temper shorter than the older guy, he might be hexing the balls out of him anytime now. In the end, Bill managed to push him through the entire ordeal after insinuating the possibility of Harry dancing with another handsome-looking lord simply because he doesn’t know how to do it.

Another lesson they needed to learn was the Language of the Lords. It doesn't mean they need to come across a completely new vocabulary only that they have to avoid using profane words and cusses when speaking with each other.

“It may make you sound like an arrogant daft, but the goal is to sound restrained and elegant.” Says Bill in his lecture with matching gestures of his hand. They were also taught how to walk with proper poise as well as common gestures that are practiced among pureblood wizards. To make it more effective, Bill placed three stacks of books on their heads with the goal of not letting them fall as they move around.

On his last day in the palace before the start of term, the three young men celebrated it with a barbecue dinner outside the grounds. It was Charlie’s idea for an outdoor picnic who hounded the house-elves to set up a blanket with a grill under the stars. Harry made use of his new collapsible telescope in locating some of the constellations.

“Are you nervous?” Charlie asks him while they lay side by side watching the clear night sky.

“A little bit.” The boy replied.

“You’ll do good. I promise.”

“Besides, you will be meeting our little brothers.” Bill chided who suddenly began to worry about two evil twins who are a pair of bloody menaces.

“Ron, next to our youngest will be going to Hogwarts this year. He’ll make a good friend, trust me.”

“Just make sure you wouldn’t slip mentioning our names until they start talking about us or they wouldn’t rest until you’d spill everything out of your tongue.”

Harry smiled. By now, there’s no way he would forget. These two kept reminding him about the secrecy of their plans over and over.

No matter what, the idea of stepping into a brand-new chapter of his life as a wizard excites him somehow. He couldn’t wait to see the wonderful castle where his parents had grown up and learn magic the same way they did.

  
  



	9. Somewhere Between Two Platforms

Harry woke at five o’clock the next morning, too nervous to go back to sleep. He ended up outside his room’s terrace stroking Hedwig’s feathers who just got home from a hunt in the evening. The night before they went to bed, Bill made sure he got everything he needed. All his stuff is now packed inside his Royal Blue trunk that bore the distinctive Potter’s crest. The older men hadn’t woken up until after six. They had their breakfast in the garden as per Harry’s request which the house-elves complied to without any hesitations.

They made it back to London at half-past ten. The train is scheduled to leave at eleven o’clock, so they have enough time to send him off.

“Bloody hell, Billy. Why on Merlin’s beard do we have to be wearing muggle suits, eh?” Charlie kept complaining since they’d left Bucharest. Both boys wore identical pitch-black suits with matching scarlet ties. The only thing the younger Weasley liked about their outfit was the aviator sunglasses they wore as part of the disguise. He didn’t mind wearing it despite the heavy glamour charm they applied on their faces so as not to be recognized.

Harry couldn’t keep himself from sniggering at the sight of the two. Bill’s obsession over muggle fashion seems to have gotten overboard to the point of catching attention. Contrary to their goal of keeping a low profile, they look like formal bodyguards looking after a spoiled brat wearing a V-necked jumper over a powder blue shirt and a crimson tie. Harry looked more casual in it causing Charlie to groan enviously at his mate for enjoying such leniency.

“Tone your voice down,” Bill shushed him. “The more you whine, the more they’d notice us.” He warned. “Get used to it. You’re lucky we have less than an hour left before you can put them off later.”

“Urgh! This is ridiculous.”

“Here we are. King’s Cross Station.”

They stood before a busy railway terminal in Central London. Charlie loaded his trunk onto a cart and wheeled it for him as they went into the platform. On their way, Harry stared at his train ticket. It was the first time he glimpsed at it after they bought it for him the other week.

“It says here that I take the train from Platform Nine and Three-quarters at eleven o’clock.” He read out loud. “Is there such a thing?”

Both brothers smirked at him. “You’ll find out soon, Harry dear.”

They halted between the spot where a big plastic number nine over one platform and another big plastic number ten over the one next to it. There’s a stone brick wall separating both from each other. If he understood the ticket right, his platform should’ve been somewhere in the middle.

“Charlie, look around.” Bill grunted.

“Don’t worry, brother o’mine. I cast us all a disillusionment charm.”

“Good thinking on that. Harry and I will go first.”

The boy gaped at both boys with a dumb look asking, “where we going?”

Bill pointed at the brick wall in front of them. “We’re going to walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Now, pay attention. Don’t stop and don’t be scared, you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best we do it on a bit of a run if you’re nervous.”

Harry thought it was a good idea, so he nodded.

They started to walk toward it. People jostled them on their way to the two platforms in between. Harry walked more quickly. His mind kept telling him he was going to smash right into the wall and then, they’d be in trouble. But then again, Bill’s right next to him. Being reminded of the man’s presence made him feel more at ease.

Leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a trot. The barrier was coming nearer and nearer— he won’t be able to stop. The cart was out of control and they were a foot away. He closed his eyes ready for the crash but nothing’s happening yet.

It didn’t come… he kept on moving further. He opened his eyes, and a scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said, “Hogwarts Express”, Eleven o’clock”. Harry looked behind him to see a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words “Platform Nine and Three-Quarters” whittled on it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babbling and scraping of heavy trunks.

Charlie appeared from the said archway shortly after them. He turned to Bill, whispering, “mum and the others are here. We better hurry.”

The other redhead agreed. They headed forward a bit faster as soon as they heard a familiar voice muttering, “it’s the same every year, packed with muggles, of course” until they reached nearly far behind the train. The first few carriages are already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. They passed a round-faced boy who was saying, “Gran, I’ve lost my toad again.”

“Oh, Neville,” he heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

“Give us a look, Lee, go on.”

The boy lifted the lid of the box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

“Pretty sure the twins will be excited to see that,” Bill growled under his breath.

The trio pressed on through the crowd until they found an empty compartment. Charlie put the sleeping Hedwig inside her cage first and with Bill’s help, carried and shoved his trunk toward the train door’s slide panel.

“Better. You’re all set.” The older guy brushed the dust off his hands. “Now, remember what we told you...”

“That I’ll be a good boy and keep myself out of trouble and if possible, Dumbledore.”

Bill chuckled, “that’s good to know.”

Charlie took his hand gently and messed his hair, “I’ll miss you, little guy.” He said.

“Me too,” the boy admitted without looking him in the eyes.

“You will write to us soon, wouldn’t you?”

“You bet I will.”

Bill pulled a small blue notebook from his coat pocket and handed it over to the kid. “Here. This is faster than sending over poor Hedwig.”

Harry looked at him, then at the blank pages. He’s waiting for instructions on how to make it work. It’s been weeks but magic still confounded him, you know.

“All you have to do is write the name of the person you wish to send the message to. Charlie and I have the same we can use. This would also keep anyone from suspecting. The goblins told me people at the castle expect you to receive nothing.”

The boy scowled. It makes him angrier how people did an almost perfect job in making sure he had a miserable life. If not for the goblins or for Bill, he couldn’t imagine what his life would’ve been.

“We have to go now, Kiddo. We will move to the hamlet before the weekend.” The older Weasley ruffled his hair. “We expect to hear from you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.”

With a farewell smile, both boys disappear. Harry was left outside his compartment standing. He whirled around when he heard the noise of two boys struggling. Why? It’s the twins! They try to heave two trunks toward the train door but are having a hard time. Twice they dropped each painfully on their feet cussing in pain afterward.

“Want a hand?” He politely asked the two.

“Sure, mate. Would love to.” One of them panted.

With Harry’s help, both trunks were at last tucked away in a corner of an empty compartment at the end of the train.

“Thanks,” they said all together.

“Oh, it was nothing,” said the boy shyly who pushes the sweaty hair out of his forehead.

“What’s that?” One of the boys gasped all of a sudden. He was pointing at Harry’s lightning bolt scar that looked almost faded like it’s barely there.

“Blimey,” said the other twin. “Are you—?”

“He is,” adds the first one, stupidly smiling. “Aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Harry Potter.” They blurted in a chorus.

“Oh, him.” Harry shrugged. He wondered how they noticed the scar when it’s no longer that noticeable. “I mean, yes, I am.”

He made a mental note to be more careful with these two.

The two boys gawked at him and Harry felt himself turning red. To his relief, a voice came floating in through the train’s open door.

“Fred? George? Are you there?”

“Coming, Mom.”

With a last look at him, the twins hopped off the train.

Harry sat down next to the window where he was half-hidden. He took a book Bill charmed to shrink inside his jumper so he can use it to kill his boredom during the entire duration of the trip. Despite being hidden, he could hear Bill and Charlie’s family talking. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

“Ron, you’ve got something on your nose.”

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nostrils.

“Mom— geroff”, He wriggled free.

“Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?” said one of the twins.

“Shut up,” Ron retorts.

“Where’s Percy?” Their mother looked around for another redhead in the jostling crowd.

“He’s coming now.”

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it.

“Can’t stay long, Mother,” he said. “I’m up in front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves—”

“Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?” one of the twins teased him with an air of great surprise. “You should have said something, we had no idea.”

“Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it,” the other twin chided. “Once—”

“Or twice—”

“A minute—”

“Hang on—”

“All summer—”

“Oh, shut up,” snapped Percy the Prefect.

“How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?” one of the twins asked out of curiosity.

“Because he’s a prefect,” their mother responded fondly. “All right, dear, well, have a good term— send me an owl when you get there.”

She kissed Percy on the cheek, and he left. Then she turns to the twins when she’s done with the rest.

“Now, you two— this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you’ve— you’ve blown up a toilet or—”

“Blown up a toilet? We’ve never blown up a toilet before.”

“Great idea though, thanks, Mom.”

“It’s not funny. And look after Ron.”

“Don’t worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us.”

“Shut up,” Ron retorted angrily once again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

“Hey, mom. Guess what? Guess who we met on the train?”

Harry leaned back as quick as he could so they couldn’t see him looking their way.

“You know that black-haired boy who went through the station ahead of us with two big men in black muggle suits? Know who he is?”

“Who?”

“Harry Potter!”

Harry heard the little girl’s voice. If his hunch was right, and the way Bill and Charlie describe her fandom over the boy-who-lived, this must be Ginny, their youngest sibling.

“Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, eh? Please…?”

“You’ve already seen him, Ginny. My, what a handsome boy. And he isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How did you know?”

“Asked him. Saw his scar. It’s barely there. If he didn’t brush his forehead filled with all the sweat on it, we wouldn’t notice it but it’s there— like lightning.”

“Poor dear. I wonder who those two muggles he’s with though.”

“Us too, but they look like huge men with those enormous muscles that can compete against that of Bill’s and Charlie’s build.”

The color left Harry’s cheeks. Those two were right. Their family is the nosiest brood that ever existed.

“Do you think he remembers what you-know-who looks like?”

Their mother became furious all of a sudden. “I forbid you to ask him that. No, Fred, don’t you dare. As though he needs reminding of that night on his first day at school.”

“All right, keep your hair on.”

A whistle interrupted their conversation.

“Hurry up!” Their mother called out, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them goodbye and their younger sister began to cry.

“Don’t, Ginny, we’ll send you loads of owls.”

“We’ll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat too!”

“George!”

“Only joking, mom.”

The train began to move. Harry saw the boys’ mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered to a much faster speed. Then she fell back and waved.

Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement as he watched the breathtaking view. He didn’t know where he was going but it had to be better than the life he’d left behind before Bill and Charlie rescued him.

The door of the compartment slid open as the youngest redheaded boy stuck his head in. “Anyone sitting there?” He asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry’s. “Everywhere else is full.”

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at the boy across him who was busy reading a book. The cover wrote, “10 Thousand Ways to Disgrace One’s Lordship”.

“Hey, Ron.” The twins were back.

“Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train— Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” Ron mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Harry,” the other twin smiles at him, “have we introduced ourselves yet? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.”

“Bye,” said Harry and Ron all together. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

“Are you really Harry Potter?” Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded.

“Oh— well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George’s lame jokes,” he said. “And have you really got— you know…”

He was pointing at Harry’s forehead.

A bit irritated, the boy runs a finger in his bangs to show the faded lightning scar. Ron stared at it, agape.

“So that’s where You-Know-Who—?”

“Yes, although I can’t remember anything. So, I’m sorry, I can’t tell you any more details about what happened.”

Ron’s ears turned pink at the dismissive response. He didn’t mean to pry in this boy’s life.

There was an awkward silence after that. Harry continued reading while Ron decided to focus watching the view outside the train.

“I heard you went to live with Muggles. What are they like?” once again, the redhead asked. He couldn’t seem to control his mouth.

“Horrible— I mean, my aunt and uncle and cousin are,” he said anyway. “But not all of them.” Harry laid down his book deciding a conversation might shut the kid up. “How many brothers do you have?”

“Five,” Ron replied. For some reason, he was looking gloomy for saying that. “I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left— Bill was head boy and Charlie was Quidditch Captain. Now, Percy’s a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks, and everyone thinks they’re really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal because they did it first. You never get anything new either with five brothers. I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old rat.”

He makes it sound like it’s bad. Well, it’s his opinion. So Harry didn’t bother making a fuss. All his life, he lived with Dudley’s hand-me-downs and he’s fine with that.

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat which was fast asleep.

“His name’s Scabbers and he’s useless. He hardly wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn’t aff— I mean, I got Scabbers instead.”

The boy’s ears went pink. He seemed to think he’d said too much which Harry would mentally agree with. He went back to staring out of the window to give Harry more space and time reading.

There shouldn’t be anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, he’d never had any money in his life until a month ago. And based on the stories the two older Weasley boys had regaled him about their family, they may be less fortunate when it comes to financial matters, but their parents smothered them with love and care that money couldn’t compare with anything else.

And so he told Ron. He told him all about living the miserable life with his muggle relatives, being deprived of everything including not getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up a bit.

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half-past twelve, there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, “anything off the trolley, dears?”

Harry looked at the treats as if they were a feast. Bill’s dietary plan does not include candies and other sweets, so he leaped to his feet and bought some of everything. He noticed Ron’s ears went pink again and he muttered that he’d brought sandwiches.

He had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver, he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry. Well, the thing is, the woman didn’t have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bettie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Bill had failed to introduce to him about.

Ron stared dumbly as Harry brought all the candies back into the compartment and tipped them onto an empty seat.

“Hungry, are you?”

“Not really,” says Harry. “Just curious what they’d taste like.”

Ron shrugged. Anyone who’d spent living the muggle life would probably do the same thing as Harry did. He took out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, “She always forgets I don’t like corned beef.”

“Swap you for one of these,” Harry says holding up a pasty. He’ll forgive him now for complaining too much, but it would also be nice to have a friend the same age as Ron. “Go on,” he urged.

“You don’t want this, it’s all dry,” Ron warns. “She hasn’t got much time,” he added quickly, “you know, with the five of us.”

Harry took them anyway and munch on the sandwich first much to the redhead’s surprise. He wouldn’t understand but if it would be Harry, he’d gladly eat whatever his mum would’ve prepared knowing she had made them out of love for all her children.

“What are these?” He asked Ron, holding up a pack of chocolate frogs. “They’re not really frogs, are they?” Harry scolded himself. This is a magical world where he’s at. Nothing should surprise him after everything he’d seen in the last month.

“No,” Ron replied. “But see what the card is. I’m missing Agrippa.”

“What?”

“Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know. Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect— famous witches and wizards. I’ve got about five hundred, but I haven’t got Agrippa or Ptolemy.”

Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and pulled up the card inside. It showed a man’s face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

“So this is Dumbledore!” He almost gasped.

“Don’t tell me you’d never heard of Dumbledore?” Ron gaped at him looking incredulous. “Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa— thanks —”

Harry turned over the card and read:

**_ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_ **

**_CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS_ **

__

_ Considered by many as the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling. _

Harry rolled his eyes. So much for praising the old guy, this is the same person who tried to ruin his life. So he set the card aside and opened the other boxes. Soon, he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. He looked stunned when he noticed the last wizard that he opened wink at him. He didn’t know his great, great-grandson is the one staring at his card right now, did he?

He finally tore his eyes away from the Druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

“You want to be careful with those,” Ron warned him. “When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor— you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-flavored one once.”

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

“Bleaaargh — see? Sprouts.”

They had a good time eating the ‘Every Flavor Beans’. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end of a funny gray one Ron wouldn’t touch, which turned out to be pepper.

As they shared each other’s laughter over every flavor they’d come across, Harry realized hanging out with Bill’s and Charlie’s little brother doesn’t sound so bad as he’d thought after all.

He’s enjoying this whole train ride to Hogwarts all in all.

  
  



	10. Meeting New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A redhead, a loathsome blonde, a bushy-haired know-it-all, and a forgetful boy.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

“Sorry,” he said in between his sniffs, “but have you seen a toad at all?”

When they shook their heads, he wailed, startling Harry. “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!”

“He’ll turn up,” Harry said in encouragement.

“Yeah, I really do hope so,” the boy nodded miserably. “Well, if you see him…”

He left.

“Don’t know why he’s so bothered,” Ron grimaced. “If I’d brought a toad, I’d lose it as quickly as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can’t talk.”

Indeed, the rat was still snoozing on Ron’s lap.

“He might have died, and you wouldn’t know the difference. I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him look more interesting, but the spell didn’t work. I’ll show you, look…”

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end. Harry put a mental note to have Bill purchase a new wand for him by the weekend.

“Unicorn hair’s nearly poking out. Anyway—”

He had just raised it to cast the spell when the compartment door slid open once again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had with him a girl. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes staring at them authoritatively.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.”

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” Ron retorted irritatingly, but the girl wasn’t listening. Her eyes are more focused on the wand he held in his hand.

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.”

She sat down making Ron gape at her, taken aback.

“Er— all right.”

He cleared his throat. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow… turn this stupid fat rat yellow.”

Ron waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” Said the girl. “Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family knows how to cast magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard— I’ve learned all our course books by heart. I just hope it will be enough— I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”

She said all those words very fast.

Harry looked at Ron waiting to explode. As much as the girl sounded a bit annoying, he finds her attitude somewhat tolerable. It’s the young Weasley boy he’s worried about having a short temper and all— Bill’s words.

“I’m Ron Weasley.”

“Harry Potter-Black.”

All four of them looked at him with wide eyes. It was the first time they heard him introduce himself and they didn’t expect him to state his complete name.

“Are you really?” Hermione was the first one to react among them. “I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books for background reading and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He wasn’t excited to hear false praises from an unreliable reference. “Really? Then I’d say you’ve got to read about me somewhere else then. Whatever those books wrote aren’t true at all. Except for a few minor details. The rest of it is nothing but rubbish.”

Hermione looked scandalized. She’d never been slammed by anyone her whole life. “But… but…”

“I’ll give you a list of what books have more accurate information written in them. Remind me when we get to the castle.” He offered with a sneer which the girl accepted wholeheartedly.

“Well, you’re right. I’d definitely look that up if that’s the case.” She said, “anyway, do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around and I hope I’m in Gryffindor. It sounds by far the best. I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad… oh! We’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You two had better change, you know. I expect we’ll be there soon.”

“You may want to check with the prefects in front. Ron’s brother, Percy would be more than willing to help.” Harry suggested, winking at the redheaded boy across him.

“I think that’s a good idea.” And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

“Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it,” Ron threw his wand back into his trunk. “Stupid spell. George gave it to me. Bet he knew it was a dud.”

Probably to mess around, Harry thought. “What house are your brothers in?” He knew Bill and Charlie were in Gryffindor as well as the twins. That leaves Percy who looked like he belonged to the same house as them.

“Gryffindor,” Ron confirmed his suspicion. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. “Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not. I don’t suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad but imagine if they put me in Slytherin.”

Harry didn’t like this ridiculous idea of stereotyping. “Just because You-Know-Who was in there?”

“Yeah,” said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

He wondered how he’d react if he finds out that Harry is the current head of that house.

“What’s your Quidditch team?” Ron asked, changing the topic.

Harry pondered a moment. There are quite a few teams Charlie had introduced him to but most of them are from Europe. The only English team he’s very much familiar with is The Appleby Arrows since one of his estates are sponsoring their league. He hasn’t seen them play yet though.

“I guess I’d go for the Appleby’s.” He admitted sheepishly.

“That’s cool! From North England. I love how their fans fire arrows from their wands whenever an Appleby Chaser scores. It’s too bad they banned the practice when a referee once received a free nose piercing from a wayward arrow that hit him several years ago.”

Harry chuckled in his seat. He was, of course, informed of that incident by Charlie himself to their eternal shame. He was listening to Ron regaling his own favorite team (the Chudley Cannons) when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn’t Neville the toadless boy or Hermione Granger the bossy girl this time.

Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once. It was the pale boy from Madam Malkin’s Robe Shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he’d shown back in Diagon Alley.

“Is it true?” He asked. “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment. So it’s you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah?” Harry’s brows are raised. He was looking at the other boys. Both were thickset looking extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked more like his bodyguards than his friends.

“This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle,” said the boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. “And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. His reaction earned a glare from the pale kid.

“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.”

Harry didn’t like the sound of it at all. But as what he’d learned from Bill’s lessons, he had to keep his blank façade on.

Draco turned back to facing him. “You’ll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than the others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

He held out his hand to shake Harry’s. He had the strong urge not to take it. But remembering his mentor’s words…

_ “It is customary among purebloods to take a handshake no matter how unpleasant they are. Refusing it puts your own house in a disgrace and we don’t want that to happen.” _

Thus, Harry accepted the gesture but with a tighter grip. And then, with an air of a cold tone, he sneered, “now, now, Heir Malfoy. No need to degrade ourselves by starting a useless brawl. I don’t think your father would be pleased to find out his son and heir apparent is not getting along well with a lord of an Ancient and Noble House, do we?”

Draco Malfoy’s eyes widened. He didn’t expect the boy-who-lived who grew up with muggles will be talking like a pureblooded git. And Harry was right. His father had pushed him into befriending the little young lord on his first day on the train and if he failed, he couldn’t imagine the possibilities.

“Very well,” he said slowly. “A friendly advice though, you hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and people that are out of our league and it will rub off on you.”

“I’ll manage.” He leered, “I’d say I’ll take your friendship still. Have a good day, Heir Malfoy and your two… sidekicks. See you at the feast.”

Having said that, the three boys left the compartment at once. Perhaps they heard footsteps that is why they didn’t attempt to make any more protests because a second later, Hermione Granger had entered.

“What’s going on?” She admonished, both hands over her waist, but both boys weren’t listening to what she was saying.

“You’ve met Malfoy before?”

Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.

“That was brilliant, what you did out there.” Said Ron in amazement. “Not many families can stand up to them, being arrogant gits for being pureblooded and all that nonsense. Did you see his face? It means he knew what you were talking about. Though I must admit I knew little about the old customs among pureblood wizards.”

He fought the urge not to suggest taking lessons from his older brother.

“I’ve heard of his family.” Ron went on darkly. “They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said something about being bewitched. Dad doesn’t believe it. He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an excuse to go over to the dark side.” Then he turns to Hermione. “Can we help you with something?”

“You’d better hurry up and put your robes on, I’ve just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we’re nearly there. You haven’t been fighting, have you? You’ll be in trouble before we even get there!”

“I’d say, if ever we did, you’ll be the last one to know,” Harry said coldly.

Ron sniggered in agreement. “Would you mind leaving while we change then?”

“All right— I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors,” said Hermione in a sniffy voice. “And you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?”

The redhead glared at her as she left. Harry peered out of the window and noticed that it’s getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. He did notice that the train seems to be slowing down. Soon, both boys had changed into their uniforms. Ron’s robes were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them. He couldn’t help but stare in awe looking at Harry’s neatly tailored ones. Even his black shoes looked expensive as they were shining like a polished stone.

A voice echoed through the train, “we will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train since it will be taken to the school separately.”

Harry’s stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, as he saw, looked pale under his freckles. They made sure they had left nothing inside the compartment before joining the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a booming voice. “Firs’ years! Firs years over here!”

“Whoa!” They both gasped.

A giant of a man was standing before them. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under the hair.

“Blimey, Harry, there you are! Where have you been?” The giant said with a worried look on his face. “Been lookin’ fer ye’ fer so many days now, thot ye got kidnapped or sumthn’.”

“Err,” he didn’t know what to say. This giant was looking for him for days?

Oh…

He must be that ‘someone else’ Bill had warned him about that same day he took him out of the shack.

“Sorry, but who are you?” He asked the giant man as politely as he can.

“Oh, sorry. Forgot ter introduce meself, eh? Name’s Hagrid, by the way. Keeper of keys and grounds of Hogwarts.” He took the hand he offered which caused his own to vanish within his grasp. Although it felt friendly and gentle.

“Hello, Hagrid. But don’t you think we’re going to be late if we stay here longer?” Politely, Harry tried to cause some distraction that worked in a matter of a second.

“Righ’ C’mon then, follow me.” He bellowed one last time before leading their little group in another direction. “Any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years, follow me!”

Others slip while some are tumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there.

Nobody had spoken much.

Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” the giant man called over his shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.”

There was a loud, “ooooh!” that followed.

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry night sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

Harry must’ve imagined it but at one point, he thought he heard someone who whispered, “welcome home!” in his ear.

“No more’n four in a boat!” Hagrid warns, who had a boat all to himself. “Right then— FORWARD!”

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

“Heads down!” The giant yelled as the first boats reached the cliff. They all bent their heads in compliance and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were led along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle until they reached a kind of an underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

“Oy, you there! Is this your toad?” Hagrid asks Neville as he checks the boats while people climbed out of them.

“Trevor!” The boy cried in relief. Holding out his hands. Then their entire group clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid’s lamp, coming out last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

“Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?”

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

Not too long, the huge wooden entrance opens at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood before them. She had a very stern face and Harry’s first impression of her was that this was not someone he would want to cross with.

“The firs’ year, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid introduced to her the students.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big, you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys’ house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right— the rest of the school must already be here, but instead, the witch showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall greeted. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within the school. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are here, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron’s smudged nose. Harry just stood there trying to look calm as ever. His new hairstyle prevents people from seeing his scar unless he lifts his bangs up.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.”

She left the chamber. Harry noticed some of the students swallowed a lump in their throats.

“How exactly do they sort us into houses?” One student asked Ron from behind them.

“Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking,” which Harry thought the same thing. What he finds interesting about those two is their genius in pranking. If Bill’s accounts of his brothers were right, he would say he’d like to see a lot of them more. He’d learned from one of his Dad’s journals that he was a renowned prankster. He took advantage of his access to the castle by exploring them in the wee hours.

That would be pretty much exciting. He just must make sure it would not reach the knowledge of Bill.

He looked around and noticed that everyone else seemed terrified. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she’d learned and wondering out loud which one she’d need.

He’d start to think more about pranking that kid.


	11. The Hat's Warm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The castle rejoices upon the return of its rightful owner.

It’s been a while since Professor McGonagall had left and the first years are still huddled in the small chamber. Harry hoped she would return soon, or he could no longer stand the soreness of his legs.

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air— several people behind him screamed.

“What the—?” He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the children beneath them. They seemed to be arguing about something. What looked like a fat little monk was saying, “forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—”

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost— I say, what are you all doing here?”

A ghost, wearing ruff and tights had finally noticed them.

Nobody answered.

“Ooh! New students!” The friar exclaims, smiling around them welcomingly. “About to be sorted, I suppose?”

A few people nodded mutely.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” He said to them. “My old house, you know.”

“Move along now,” came a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

Professor McGonagall had finally returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

“Now, form a line,” the witch told them, “and follow me.”

Most of the students felt odd as though their legs had turned to lead. Harry’s was starting to stiffen. He got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

If he had not been to the summer palace, Harry might have never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It felt like home. The same vibe he’d felt in his other estates. The hall was lit by thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here so that they came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the student body.

Behind them was the faculty. The hundreds of faces staring at their group looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, “it’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History.”

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn’t simply open onto the heavens.

An idea sprang out of Harry’s head. With a smirk curling up in his lips, the boy subtly snapped his fingers commanding the ceiling to change. The sky had turned into the same ones like that at the dragon reserve. To everyone’s horror, about ten vicious-looking dragons hovered on top of the ceiling roaring at them. More than half of the crowd shrieked in fear when one of them opened its mouth revealing its horrendous fangs. Harry saw Neville fainted ahead of the line.

 _Now, try to explain what just happened, smart girl_. He sneered in his head.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years acting calm and innocent.

On top of the stool, McGonagall placed a pointed wizard’s hat. It was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn’t have let it inside the house if ever she comes across it.

“Maybe we had to try and get a rabbit out of it,” the boy with the sandy hair in front of him made a wild guess. Noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at it, he did the same as well. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth and the hat began to sing quite out loud.

_“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,_

_But don’t judge on what you see,_

_I’ll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I’m the Hog warts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There’s nothing hid den in your head._

_The Sorting Hat can’t see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might be long in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might be long in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Raven claw,_

_if you’ve a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You’ll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don’t be afraid!_

_And don’t get in a flap!_

_You’re in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I’m a Thinking Cap!”_

The entire hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

“So all we’ve got to do is just to try the hat on!” Ron groans quietly to Harry. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.”

The boy smiles at the brilliance of the joke. He’s starting to love those twins more and more.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long scroll of parchment. She announced, “when I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.” Then, she started calling out names. “Abbott, Hannah!”

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the line. She put on the hat which fell right down over her eyes and sat down.

A moment’s pause —

“HUFFLEPUFF!” Shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

“Bones Susan!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!” Shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

“Boot, Terry!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

The table second from the left clapped this time. Several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

“Brocklehurst, Mandy” went to Ravenclaw too, but “Brown, Lavender” became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers. Harry could see Ron’s twin brothers catcalling.

“Bulstrode, Millicent” then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry’s imagination, after all, he’d known a lot about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot.

“Finch-Fletchley, Justin!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others, it took a little while to decide. “Finnigan, Seamus,” the sandy-haired boy next to him in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

“Granger, Hermione!”

She almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

“GRYFFINDOR!” Shouted the hat. Ron groaned in utter disgust.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with him. When it finally shouted, “GRYFFINDOR,” Neville ran off still wearing it and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it over to “MacDougal, Morag.”

Malfoy swaggered forward like a peacock when his name was called and got his wish at once. The hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”

The blonde went to join his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren’t many people left now. “Moon” …, “Nott” … “Parkinson” … then a pair of twin girls, “Patil” and “Patil” …, then “Perks, Sally Anne” … until at last —

“Potter-Black, Harry James!”

He noticed the way McGonagall call out his name with a stutter, looking confused for some reason. Why does his added last name make everyone look absurd?

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

“Wait, Potter, did she say?”

“The Harry Potter?”

“I heard it was Potter-Black. How on earth did it come to that?”

“Two Ancient houses! Merlin… how on earth did he become a Black?”

The last thing he saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second, he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

“Bless my soul!” It cried. “The little lord has made it back! Dear Hogwarts, the son that had come from the line of the three founders - rejoice for he has arrived!”

“Oh, tattered hat, will you be quiet?” Harry hissed. The last thing he wanted is for the bloody talkative garment to announce his ownership of the castle in front of these hundreds of people.

“Forgive me, Little Lord. This old and humbled soul is just so happy to see you.” It makes an ugly noise as if it was crying horrendously. “But don’t fret, this conversation is only between you and me, I swear. As I intend to speak in your mind and not with your neck.”

Harry felt better. “So, aren’t you going to sort me now, then?”

“My apologies. But yes, I’ll do it. Aaah, Little Lord, you’re giving me a difficult job. Plenty of courage like your great, great grandfather, Godric himself. A brilliant mind like your great-grandaunt. There’s talent, aah my goodness. Salazar would be so proud to have you in. You have a nice thirst to prove yourself which is interesting… but where shall I put you, eh?”

The young man smirks, “come on, hat. No need to torment yourself. You know the answer to that.”

With a sigh, the hat conceded. “Fine. After all, my master would definitely roll in his grave if I hand you over to his friend. Well, if you’re so sure, I’d place you to your main house then—GRYFFINDOR!!!”

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the entire hall. He took it off and walked smugly toward the leftmost table. He was so amused with the conversation he had with the tattered object that he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled proudly, “We got Potter! We got Potter!”

The boy sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he’d seen earlier. He tilted his head in a slight bow recognizing his title.

He could see the High Table properly now. In the end, nearest him, sat Hagrid who caught his eye and gave him a thumbs up. Harry grinned back. While there, in the center, in a large golden chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. He averted his eyes immediately and caught sight of the Phoenix who showed up after he took his lordship rings in Gringotts. It was perched atop the headmaster’s chair where the old coot sat. To his surprise, it winked at him as if telling him he’s on his side but wouldn’t reveal it until at the right time.

Harry flashed a genuine smile.

Now, there were only three people left to be sorted. “Thomas, Dean,” a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. “Turpin, Lisa,” became a Ravenclaw, and then it was Ron’s turn. He was pale green by now, Harry wanted to urge the hat to sort him to Hufflepuff to make a prank out of it but decided to dismiss the thought in the end. A second later, the hat shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”

He clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

“Well done, Ron, excellent,” Percy beamed proudly as “Zabini, Blaise,” was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the sorting hat away.

Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The nutrient potions he’s been taking for more than a month now increased his appetite, causing most parts of his body to fill out.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

 _Load of tripe_ , Harry thought in his head.

“Welcome,” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are, Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! — Thank you!”

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or not.

Percy was the closest to whom he could ask the question, “why is he calling house-elves names? Is he— a bit mad?”

“Mad?” Percy looked at him airily, “he’s a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?”

He looked around and realized what had just happened. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. There’s roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and for some reason, peppermint humbugs. Rolling his eyes, he piled his plate with a bit of everything realizing he already got the answer he was looking for.

Some of the purebloods took notice of his table manners; his proper utilization of the knives and forks as well as the refined movements of his hands in taking his food. They couldn’t help but look at each other with raised brows, wondering who could’ve taught the boy-who-lived to be living the life of a true lord.

“That does look good,” said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

“Want some?”

“I haven’t eaten for nearly five hundred years.” He scowled. “I don’t need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of the Gryffindor Tower.”

“I know who you are!” Ron exclaimed suddenly. “My brothers told me about you— you’re Nearly Headless Nick!”

“I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy—” the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

“Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?”

The ghost looked extremely miffed as if their little chat wasn’t going at all the way he wanted.

“Like this,” he said irritably. Sir Nicholas seized his left ear and pulled. His entire head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased with the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, “so— new Gryffindors! I hope you are going to help us win the house championship this year. Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron’s becoming almost unbearable— he’s the Slytherin ghost, by the way.”

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to the Malfoy kid who, Harry was pleased to see, didn’t look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

“How did he get covered in blood?” Seamus asked with great interest.

“I’ve never asked, said Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later, the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs, and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding…

Harry was sure Bill’s going to kill him for ruining his diet but decided to worry about it later. As he helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

“I’m half-and-half,” Seamus said. “Me’ dad’s a muggle. Mom didn’t tell him she was a witch until after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.”

The others laughed hearing his story.

“What about you, Neville?” Ron asked him.

“Well, my gran brought me up and she’s a witch,” he said. “But the family thought I was all-muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me— he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned and yet nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Aunt Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here— they thought I might not be magical enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased, he bought me my toad.”

On Harry’s other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons (“I do hope they start right away, there’s so much to learn, I’m particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it’s supposed to be difficult “; “you’ll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing—”).

As he was starting to feel warm and sleepy, Harry looked up at the high table again. One of the teachers was staring intently at him. He had greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

“Who’s that teacher talking to the Professor with the turban?” He asked Percy again.

“Oh, that’s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, although many people say he doesn’t want to. Everyone knows he’s after Professor Quirrell’s job, that guy with the turban next to him. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape.”

The boy watched the said man for a while, but he didn’t look at him again unlike the last time.

At last, the desserts had also disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet again.

The hall fell silent.

“Ahem— just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you all.”

Everyone listened.

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

His twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.”

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few ones who did.

“He’s not serious, is he?” He muttered to Percy.

“Must be,” the Prefect told him, frowning at the announcement. “It’s odd because he usually gives us a ready explanation of why we’re not allowed to go somewhere— the forest is full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us, prefects, at least.”

When it’s time to go to bed, the Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds— well, except Harry. He was accosted by Professor McGonagall who asked him to follow her to her office.

This made him feel a bit nervous. He would think it would be unfair, but he doesn’t want to think he’ll be in trouble on his first day in school, not that he remembers anything he could’ve done in the last few hours.

“This way, Mister Potter.” She opened a door allowing him to get in. Harry found himself in a wide room that looked like a small library. “Sit.”

The boy complied reluctantly. He tried to avert his gaze from the stern glares of the said witch. So instead, he trailed his gaze around the interiors of the room.

Shortly afterward, the lady professor pulled out a piece of parchment from her desk, saying, “I just received a notice after the sorting ceremony, Mr. Potter,” she said. “The castle has recently opened the West Wing Apartments next to the corridors going to the Gryffindor Tower assigning it to one Archduke Griffin.”

Harry flinched. He didn’t expect the castle to set up a completely secluded apartment for him.

Noticing his reaction, McGonagall’s gaze softened. It wasn’t her intention to strike fear in the eyes of the young Potter Lord. And so, she said, “Don’t worry, Lord Potter-Black. Your identity is safe here in my office. Besides, every generation whose lines had come from the founders is given the privilege to gain access to these personal quarters. I just want to set some rules for you to follow before you decide to have some of your friends stay over wandering around. I had enough of your father’s antics when he roamed this place in his time.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile. It’s not as if he’s planning to break some hundred rules anyway.

Thus, after what sounded like forever with additional reminders and rules he was given, Harry was escorted by McGonagall personally into the upper part of the west wing corridor. They passed through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, a series of staircases until they walked past the portrait of the Fat Lady that’s supposed to lead them to the Lion’s Den and headed straight into the farther end. To anyone, it looked nothing but a hall of portraits with dozens of Suit of Armors lined up as if guarding the place, but to the founders’ heir, it’s a Royal Family residence.

The portrait of a Knight with an oversized sword riding on a Fat Pony shows up at an empty portrait at the center of the corridor. He was charging toward them both as if they were intruders, calling them rogues and other insulting names. “Stand back! You scoundrels. Thou shalt not pass beyond these gates or you’ll answer to the blade.” He yelled.

Smiling, Professor McGonagall steps forward and approaches the weird knight. “Good evening, Sir Cadogan.” She greeted. “Lord Gryffindor is here to see you.”

The scrawny armored wizard blinked his eyes several times before realizing who he was gawking at. Seeing the Lion Bullring in Harry’s hand, he dropped his sword and knelt on the ground. “Forgive my insolence, my Lady.”

“No need for that, Sir Cadogan.”

“It is always a pleasure to serve the royal family of the founders.” The man stated with reverence. “How can this loyal servant be of assistance?”

With a sigh, she replied, “Lord Gryffindor would like to make use of the Royal Apartments, please.”

Sir Cadogan jumped to his feet. With a graceful bow, he swung his portrait open revealing a huge oak door. “The Royal Apartments is open to the sons of the founders and their guests.” The woman who looked amused at the bloody git’s antics rolls her eyes.

“Thank you, sir.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty.” And with a last bow, he takes his visor off and yelled at the retreating two. “Farewell, sirs and ladyships. And If ever you have the need of a noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir... Cadogan.”

Shaking her head, McGonagall directed him to his quarters. It’s completely furnished with two bedrooms, a sitting room, a dining room, and large glass windows with a nice view of the Black Lake outside. And the most remarkable part of it was the grand terrace where he can spend the afternoon reading a book under the shady trees that grew on its stone railings.

“Your trunks had already been brought up. And if you need anything, you just have to call for a house-elf.” She instructed. “Mister William Weasley also sent me a letter about your staying at your personal residence in Hogsmeade on the weekends. That can be arranged. I will respond to him first thing in the morning.”

Harry grinned. He couldn’t thank her enough for her kindness.

“Shush, young man. Your father had been such a good man despite him being the cause of my premature grey hair,” says McGonagall, brushing his thanks off. “Now, I would have to remind you. Just because you own more than half of this castle doesn’t mean you are exempted from the rules, you understand?” she added, her voice back to being stern.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded.

“Good. Now, I shall turn in for the night. I will see you at breakfast. Goodnight.”

Harry tilted his head. He couldn’t believe the sudden turn of events. So, before he loses his consciousness to sleep, he pulls the notebook Bill gave him and starts writing messages to his two most favorite redheaded men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The last part of this chapter is referenced from “Lord Potter Black and the Curse of the DADA” which is one of my earliest works under the pen name, Chinitoblanco.


	12. A King’s Prerogative

“There, look.”

“Where?”

“Next to the tall kid with the red hair.”

“The raven-haired one with the specs?”

“Did you see his face?”

“Did you see his scar?”

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he showed up in the Great Hall the next day. People lining up outside the classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring as if searching for his scar that is no longer there. He wished they wouldn’t because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to his classes.

He had found out that there were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn’t open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren’t doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also extremely hard to remember where everything was because it all seemed to move around a lot. The only consolation was that the castle managed to guide him to his desired place by means of hidden passages. There were also those armored plates in the corridors who never failed to bow their heads when he passed by and were more than willing to escort him to his classes.

Then there’s Peeves, the poltergeist. Although most of the ghosts are willing to point the students in the right direction, the menace is worth two locked doors and a tricky staircase if you met him along the way. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, “GOT YOUR CONK!”

The bloody ghost learned it the hard way not to mess around with him when Harry managed to cast a spell, he learned in one of his family’s grimoires turning him into gooey slime. The poltergeist failed to switch himself back to normal until after midnight.

Now, even worse than Peeves if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Ron and Neville had gotten on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third level. He wouldn’t believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons until they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing by at that time.

Filch owned a cat named, Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp-like eyes just like her owner. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of the line, and she’d whisk off for Filch, who’d appear, wheezing, two seconds later. He knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (Except, of course, Harry and perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give his cat a good kick in her bum.

Now, another thing is the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out than waving your wand and saying a few funny words. Not that he isn’t enjoying it considering the numerous books he had managed to read in the past few months he had learned from Bill’s tutoring.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi and found out what they were used for. Easily, the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns would drone on and on while they scribbled down names and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. Harry had had enough of it on the second week that he decided to take with him some of his own history books in his class while his classmates either listen with stupid looks on their faces or fall to sleep.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class, he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry’s name, he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again, different. She was very good at hiding her tender behavior by maintaining a hawklike façade. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will ever learn at Hogwarts,” she said. “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

She gave them a good sample of her magic by changing her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn’t wait to get started, but soon realized they weren’t going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn them into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Harry and Hermione Granger had made any difference to their matches. His turned into what looked like a push pin while the bushy-haired girl’s, looked more like a small nail. Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave them both a rare grin.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell’s lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he’d met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to seek his revenge. The turban he wore was given as a gift by an African Prince as a thank you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren’t sure they believed his story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought the horrible creature off, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Harry had also found out that he wasn’t miles behind everyone else as far as their family upbringings are concerned. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, are still learning their place in the world of wizards and witches. There was so much to learn that even people who lived as wizards all their lives like Ron didn’t have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. The redheaded boy had finally stopped hounding him as to why his quarters is separate from the others.

“What have we got today?” The raven-haired young man asked his friend as he added strawberries to his porridge.

“Double Potions with the Slytherins,” said Ron. “Snape’s the Head of that house. They say he always favors those serpents— we’ll be able to see whether it’s true or not.”

“Wish McGonagall favored us,” Harry said dreamily. As if his head of the house hadn’t cut him enough slack these past few weeks. She must’ve charged compensation by giving them all a huge pile of homework the day prior to it.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Hedwig hadn’t brought Harry anything so far since most of their communication with Bill and Charlie was through the Blue Notebook, he handed him on the train in King’s Cross. She would sometimes fly in to nibble his ear and have a bit of a toast before going off to sleep in the owlery or at the Hamlet where Bill had made a birdhouse especially for her on one of the branches of an apple tree.

This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the strawberry bowl dropping a note onto Harry’s plate along with a thick parcel. He tore the note open when Ron wasn’t looking and read Bill’s familiar scrawl:

_Dear Little Lord,_

_Mum sent homemade fudge yesterday as a treat. Charlie and I had finally shown up in our house to announce my new assignment and she burst into tears when she learned about it. As expected, she was asking too many questions, so I was forced to weave down a few lies for a coverup. I told her that I work for a big client in London and will stay in England for a long while which matters to her the most. Charlie is scheduled to return to work after this weekend, so we are planning for a great dinner with you here in the Hamlet on Sunday._

_How are Ron and the twins? I hope they’re not giving you too much headache or worse, being a bad influence. You don’t need to respond to this letter as I know you will be tapping me tonight through the notebook anyway._

_Charlie sends his warmest regards, who is fighting over the pen to add his own note in the postscript._

_Enjoy your classes, young master!_

_Bill_

Harry rolled his eyes after reading his guardian’s missive with a smile. He hates it being called a ‘young master’ by anyone except for the house-elves and Bill is having a good time teasing him about it.

He looked at the small package carefully wrapped up in a parcel and calls for a house-elf to take it to his quarters.

“What was that?” a curious Ron blatantly asks.

“Fudge.” He said in a dismissive manner. He’s not keen to the idea of his friend recognizing anything his mother had made and end up coming up with a horrible explanation for it.

It was lucky that he had something to nibble to look forward to later because the Potions lessons if not because of the advanced reading and tutoring sessions he had gotten from Bill would’ve turned out to be the worst thing that could’ve had happened to him.

At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. But by the end of the first lesson with the greasy-haired man, he knew he’d been wrong. Snape didn’t dislike him— he hated him.

Potions took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like the little man, he paused upon coming across Harry’s name.

“Ah, yes,” he seethed in a cold air of annoyance that could make anybody’s spine inside that room tingle. “Harry Potter. Our new— celebrity.”

Draco Malfoy and his friends are obviously sniggering behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid’s, but they had none of the gentle giant’s warmth. They were cold and empty that would make you think of dark tunnels.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word that he said. Like Professor McGonagall, he had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe that this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death— if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

More silence followed his little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised brows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat looking desperate to start proving she wasn’t a dunderhead.

“Potter!” Barked Snape all of a sudden. “What would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Hermione’s hand shot into the air.

“Err… I wish I could try making one, but I heard it’s called the Draught of the Living Death.” He had come across it while reading on her mum’s old books with her own handwriting scribbled on some of the notes.

Snape looked taken aback by his answer. Wait, was he expecting him not to know and put him to shame?

“Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“Oh, I know that one.” He chirped, remembering an argument with Charlie about different magical objects they could obtain from certain animals. “It can be taken from a stomach of a goat.”

“What is it for?”

“Well, if I am to create a poison, I will make sure to keep one as a precaution.”

The atmosphere has gotten colder inside the dungeon. Even Malfoy and his goons had turned serious looking at the student and teacher glaring at each other.

“Impressive. Now, how about this one? State the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching almost toward the dungeon ceiling.

“Sit down.” Snape snapped at her. He was waiting for Harry to answer.

“I would say those two are the same thing which also goes by the name of aconite. Their roots are commonly used as poisons, even a bezoar may have a hard time saving you if you come across this plant.”

The Potions Master gaped at him as if he had grown two more heads but kept a blank face after a few minutes. “Mister Potter had gotten all those questions correct but I don’t see why you all aren’t copying them down?”

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment in the background. Over the noise, Snape says, “and a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter.”

The man’s arrogance ruined Harry’s mood for the rest of the class. Things didn’t improve for the house of the Lions as their Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple solution to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. Harry thought he made the right decision to do the mixing of the ingredients and have Neville do the slicing and crushing because a few moments later, there was a crash of broken glassware next to him after the boy accidentally toppled it with his hand.

Harry muttered a silent, reparo with a swish of his wand, and the shattered glass went back to normal as if it didn’t crash. Snape rushed to assess the situation and was miffed to see an apologetic Harry helping Neville get up to his feet.

“What are you two doing?”

It was Harry who spoke up for the two of them. “There was a minor accident, but we got it managed.” Says the boy deviously.

“Careful not to cause any explosion or you’re out of this class.” He hissed.

“Yes, sir.” Both boys replied together.

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry felt a hand caught his arm. He looked up and saw the Longbottom boy, looking grateful.

“I couldn’t thank you enough for what you did.” Says Neville smilingly. “I just realized, if it was me who did the mixing, things could’ve been worse. And Snape is horrible.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just all be thankful nothing like that happened at all.”

“Seriously, that guy was so unfair.” Seamus who was paired with Ron at that time saw the whole thing. He made sure they were back to the upper floors before saying anything.

“Don’t push it.” Says Ron, “I’ve heard Snape can turn very nasty at some point. He loves taking points off Fred and George and more than one incident penalizing them with no reasons at all.”

“Right,” Harry sighed. He joined the rest of his housemates in the common room where everyone seems to be taking a break. He decided to hang around with them for a bit before retiring to his quarters.

“You still haven’t told me where your room is.” Ron starts complaining about his friend’s little secret.

“Yeah, Harry. Why is it you’re not sharing rooms with us?” says Dean Thomas who heard the redhead’s rants.

“Because I snore loudly in bed and that I tend to hug whoever the closest person in the room I am sharing with.” The boy warns them in such a menacing way that their faces all turned pale.

Ron is not buying his reasons anyway.

Thus, rolling his eyes, Harry sighed, “fine. I’ll take you there one of these days but no more than a three in every visit. The portrait hole in my room has a mad axeman in it who brandishes his weapon at anyone who dares to get a peek.”

Everyone seems up for the little challenge despite the heavy warning.

  
  



	13. Menace in the Making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry’s mind is as vicious as it was brilliant. Malfoy and the Slytherins can attest to that.

Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he would ever hate more than he hated his cousin, Dudley— well, that was before he met the bloody git, Draco Malfoy. Acting civilly with the kid seems not enough to tolerate his irksome behavior and the brat did nothing but ruin his day. Well, not that he really tried that hard since pestering irksome gits is secretly one of Harry’s hobbies anyways.

He was somehow glad that first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn’t have to put up with him much. Or at least, they didn’t until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor Common Room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning them together.

“Typical,” Harry drawled darkly when one of the house-elves handed him a copy of the said notice. “Just what I always wanted. Flying like Butterflies on top of daisies with Draco Bloody Malfoy.”

He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else. After learning about Charlie’s dazzling skill in the art of flying a broomstick, Harry had been thinking about the feeling his ginger-haired friend had been regaling him in all his stories.

“You wouldn’t know that you’ll make a fool of yourself,” said Ron with a tone of encouragement. “Anyway, I know Malfoy’s always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, though I bet all of those are nothing but shite talk.”

The blonde certainly did blabber about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams, telling long boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.

He wasn’t the only one, though. The way Seamus Finnigan narrated his own experience about it, he’d spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who’d listen about the time he’d almost hit a hang glider on Charlie’s old broom.

In other words, everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. That caused Bill pages after pages of rants from Harry the night before, complaining why his redheaded guardian didn’t even allow him anywhere near a broom. Charlie was obviously chuckling at the responses he scribbled in their three-way journal with nothing but “Hahaha’s” in between Harry’s and his brother’s bickering through a piece of parchment.

That morning, Ron had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared a dormitory with him, about soccer. Ron couldn’t see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry had even caught the redheaded boy prodding their housemate’s poster of West Ham Soccer Team, trying to make the players move.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how they look at it, Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she had good reason because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something she couldn’t learn by heart out of a book— not that she hadn’t tried. At breakfast on Thursday, she bored them all stupid with flying tips she’d gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry didn’t bother pointing out to her that he has his own copy of it, courtesy of Charlie himself but it was Neville who was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione’s lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harry hadn’t had a single letter since Bill’s package came, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice. (He doesn’t want to waste time to shove into the blonde git’s arse the three-way journal he’s been using to contact Bill, Charlie, and his solicitors just to let him know that he, Harry, did receive more letters than anyone else in the castle was getting).

Malfoy’s eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table. Harry caught his eye who in turn wriggled his brows at him, he had the sudden urge to jump onto the other table and squeeze the life out of his neck.

“Heart,” he grumbles. A house-elf wearing a Hogwarts tablecloth pops up on his side.

“Master Harry Potter sir, what can Heart be doing for you today?”

Harry leans forward and whispers something in his ear which he immediately responded by nodding his head profusely. Then, in a heartbeat, the house-elf disappeared. It wasn’t until after like five minutes that anyone would’ve realized what he did when the four house tables were filled with sweets— all identical to everything that Draco Malfoy had received. He looked back and saw the shock on the blonde’s face seeing his friends enjoying the rich classy taste of macaroons and bonbons of the same brand from France. He darted his gaze towards him right away, and this time, it was the raven-haired boy’s turn to wriggle his brows toward his direction, smirking smugly. Harry taunted him more by raising a fist to his mouth, acting as if he was blowing the horns of triumph.

Meanwhile, a barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

“It’s a Remembrall!” He explained. “Gran knows I tend to forget things— this will tell you if there’s something you’ve forgotten. Look, you hold it tightly like this and if it turns red— oh…” His face fell because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, “… you’ve forgotten something…”

Neville was trying to remember what he’d forgotten when the Malfoy heir, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the glass ball out of his hand.

Ron, Seamus, and Dean rose to their feet. They were half-hoping for a reason to fight the blonde git, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there to handle the situation really quick.

“What’s going on?”

“Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, Professor.”

Scowling, the blonde boy quickly dropped the glass ball back on the table.

“Just looking,” he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

“That arse,” Ron spat. He turned to Harry who did nothing but nibble on his mince tarts elegantly, acting nonchalant. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

After another bite of the said treat, Harry drawled the words, “revenge is sweeter when subtly made.” And then gets up to join the rest of the crowd on their way outside the castle grounds.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

“Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” their lady instructor called at the front, “and say ‘UP!’”.

“UP!” Everyone shouted.

Harry’s broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger’s had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville’s hadn’t moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, he thought. There was a quaver in the young Longbottom’s voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to properly mount the flying devices without sliding off the end and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron wore Cheshire cat grins when she told Malfoy he’d been doing it wrong for years.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” the witch said. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle— three— two—”

To their utter surprise, Neville, as nervous and jumpy as he could be for being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had even touched Madam Hooch’s lips.

“Come back, boy this instant!” she shouted, but Neville was already rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle— twelve feet— twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom, and— WHAM!!!”

A thud and a nasty crack and the Longbottom kid lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Their lady instructor was bending over him, her face turned as white as his.

“Broken wrist,” Harry heard her mutter under her breath. “Come on, boy— it’s all right, up you get.”

She turned to the rest of the class with a stern look on her face.

“None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are, or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’ Come on, dear.”

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with her, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot when Malfoy burst into laughter. “Did you see his face, the great lump?”

The other Slytherins joined in.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Snapped Patil.

“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” says Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. “Never thought you’d like fat little crybabies, Parvati.”

Harry stood there straight using his broomstick as a cane, “now, now, Parkinson. No need to be such a tease.” He sneered.

“Whatcha gonna do, Potter? Scare me with your scar?”

Her housemates roared in laughter taunting the raven pretty hard.

“My scar is doing just fine, Pansy, thank you very much, but I should say you must be lucky for surviving such a hit. Or is that your face? I’m sorry, I thought you ran yourself into a wall while flying as Longbottom did.”

The laughter from the Gryffindor side was louder than the Slytherins. The serpents didn’t expect to hear such an attack, they all have gone speechless.

Having at a loss of what to say next, Malfoy spotted something out of the grass. “Look!” He cried. “It’s that stupid Longbottom’s gran sent him.”

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

“You better give that here, Malfoy,” Harry warns him.

A nasty smile glowed upon his face.

“I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find— how about… up a tree?”

Harry was about to say something more, but Malfoy had already leaped onto his broomstick and taken off.

He hadn’t been lying, he could fly well indeed. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak, he called, “why don’t you come and get it, Potter?!”

Rolling his eyes, the young raven grabbed his broom and mounted it, accepting the challenge.

“No!” shouted Hermione Granger. “Madam Hooch told us not to move— you’ll get us all into trouble.”

“I’ll vouch for everyone,” he said, ignoring her. Blood was pounding in his ears. Harry kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him— and in a rush of fierce joy, he realized he’d found something he could do without being taught.

 _Ha! Watch out, Bill Weasley_. He couldn’t wait to gloat at his overprotective guardian in his next message to him.

This was easy. This was wonderful. Harry pulled his broomstick up a little to drag it even higher and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. The blonde looked stunned seeing him hovering in his broom like an expert.

“Give it here now, blondie,” Harry warns again.

“Make me,” says Malfoy, trying to sneer over the nickname but sounding a bit worried.

The young Potter Lord knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward the blonde like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time. Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people beneath them are clapping their hands, cheering for him.

“We better settle this now or your father will hear about this…” He smirks. Malfoy pales.

“It’s amusing to see someone making fun of somebody else’s weakness who get easily startled when his own father’s name is heard.”

The boy felt mocked to the innermost corner of his soul.

“Catch it if you can, then!” He shouted and threw the glass ball high into the air before streaking back toward the ground.

Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rises up in the air and then starts to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down— next second, he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball— wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching. The boy stretched out his hand— a foot from the ground, he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

Wow! That was awesome. He said to himself.

“HARRY POTTER!”

He groaned seeing Professor McGonagall trotting toward their direction. From her horrified face, he knew he’s in trouble right away.

Brilliant… just brilliant.

“Never— in all my time at Hogwarts—”

The lady professor was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, “— how dare you— might have broken your neck—”

“It wasn’t his fault, Professor—”

“Be quiet, Miss Patil—”

“But Malfoy—”

“That’s enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me. NOW.”

Harry caught sight of Malfoy and his friends’ triumphant faces as he left, walking assertively in Professor McGonagall’s wake as she strode toward the castle.

“I swear to you, young man.” He could hear her grumbling as they go their way into the marble staircases. “You’ll be just the death of me, Harry Potter. James must be laughing his bollocks up there for turning my hair greyer by sending in his spawn!”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or sympathize over her misery for ranting like that about his Dad.

Was he really that bad?

It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron what had happened when he’d left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway through his mouth, but he’d forgotten all about it. Harry fought the urge to wipe his friend’s face with a table napkin. He was such a messy eater.

“Seeker?” He groaned enviously, “but first years never— you must be the youngest player in about—”

“— a century,” says Harry, shoving a spoonful of pie into his mouth. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon’s events. He didn’t even mention anything to Bill yet. He was thinking about telling it to him and Charlie as a surprise on Saturday when he goes home for the weekend.

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at his friend.

“I start training next week,” Harry tells him. “Just don’t tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret.”

Oliver Wood was the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It was he who McGonagall introduced him with when he thought the lady was going to have him expelled.

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall. As they spotted the young Potter Lord, they hurried over to congratulate him.

“Well done,” says George in a low voice. “Wood told us. We’re on the team too— beaters.”

“I tell you. We’re going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year,” says Fred. “We haven’t won since Charlie left, but this year’s team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry. Wood was almost skipping when he told us.”

“Anyway, we’ve got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he’s found a new secret passageway out of the school.”

“Bet it’s that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week—”

“That one’s blocked,” Harry cuts in without looking at them. He pretends to be busy with his dinner, ignoring their stunned looks at the younger man.

“Wait, how did you know about that?” George spluttered. It’s impossible someone else had beaten them in locating those hidden channels.

“Look. That passage is leading to one of the private houses in Hogsmeade. I’m pretty sure Mr. Filch knows where it is. You’ll get yourselves into trouble. Now, the one that’s located near Gryffindor Tower though…” He trails off, leaving that information to sink in their thoughts.

“Blimey,” says George. “You’re one of them…”

“One of what?”

“Never mind. What do you want in exchange for that tip?”

Harry pretends to be thinking deeply. “Hmm, how about a boon?”

“Bloody git,” Fred mutters in disbelief. “Why on Merlin’s balls are you not in Slytherin?”

The boy was smiling at them cheekily.

“Fine. You got yourself one.” George murmured.

“Yay! Tonight, at ten o’clock. Portrait of the fat lady. Don’t be late.” He said to them.

“Deal.”

That was it. Shaking their heads, the twins had departed to meet Lee Jordan. Both boys are left on their own with Ron gawking at Harry with a tinge of concern.

“You worry me sometimes, you know.” He muttered.

“I could probably use some of their help soon.”

They were still talking when someone far from welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Goyle and Crabbe.

“Having your last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the muggles?”

“Ooh, you’re a lot braver now that you’re back on the ground and no one’s reminding you about your scary dad,” Harry says coolly. Not to mention, he is now with his bodyguards. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

“I’d take you on anytime on my own,” says Malfoy. “Tonight, if you want. Wizard’s duel. Wands only— no contact. What’s the matter? Never heard of a wizard’s duel before, I suppose?”

“Of course, he has,” Ron interjected, wheeling around. “I’m his second, who’s yours?”

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

“Crabbe,” he said. “Midnight, all right? We’ll meet you in the trophy room. That is always unlocked.”

When Malfoy had gone, Harry and Ron looked at each other.

“What—on—earth have we just gotten ourselves into?” The raven-haired boy grumbles, staring at nowhere when he’d come to realize what they’ve done.

“Well, that was unexpected.” Ron shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you think he’ll show up though?” Knowing what a coward Draco actually is, Harry has doubts about his over-spoken courage.

“Nah, who knows? Are we going to take the bait?”

A devious smirk streaked on Harry’s face, “I think it’s time we’ll need the twins' help. Told ya’ they’ll come in handy sooner.” He said menacingly.

All the same, it wasn’t what you’d call the perfect end to the day. If he’d come right at his senses before pursuing the Malfoy git, there was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or worse, Mrs. Norris, and Harry felt he was pushing his luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoy’s sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness, he wanted to give it a good punch.

And whether he’d show up or not, he finds it a good chance to explore the castle on restricted hours. That would be fun, Harry thought.

It’s now half-past eleven. Harry was about to get into the portrait of the fat lady to get Ron and the twins when he noticed a lump of a figure snuffling next to the hole entrance.

“Neville?” He found the boy curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as he crept closer to where he is.

“Harry! Thank goodness, you found me! I’ve been out here for hours. I couldn’t remember the new password to get into bed.”

“Keep your voice down, Neville. The password is ‘Pig Snout’ but it won’t help you now, the Fat Lady’s gone off somewhere.”

Just in time, the portrait door swung open. Three redheads stepped out of it looking surprised to see another member joining the party.

“Excellent!” George muses. “Didn’t know this is going to be a school trip.”

“It’s not,” Harry throws a glare at the whimpering kid. “Neville, look. We’ve got to be somewhere. We’ll be back soon, see you later—”

“Don’t leave me!” cries Neville pleadingly. “I don’t want to stay here alone. The Bloody Baron’s been passed here twice already.”

Ron looked at his watch and snarls furiously at the Longbottom boy. “If you get us caught, I’ll never rest until I’ve learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about and use it on you!”

He nodded. As if he had a choice.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. In every turn, Harry would expect to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they are lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed their way toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren’t there yet. Obviously, not a sign of their impudent boss either. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case the blonde Slytherin leaped in and caught them all off-guard.

The minutes crept by.

“He’s late, maybe he’s chickened out, don’t you think?” Ron hissed.

Then, a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only raised his wand when they heard someone speak— and it wasn’t Malfoy to their eternal fear.

“Sniff around, my sweet. They might be lurking in the corner.”

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry looked at the other four to witness the same reaction on their faces.

“I guess you’ve been tricked, mate,” says Fred nonchalantly who didn’t seem worried at all.

He hates to admit it, but the twins are right. It’s a trap Malfoy had formulated to set them up.

“Well, leader of ours. Any brilliant ideas in mind?” George teases the brunet.

Thinking as fast as he could, Harry waved the others to follow suit. They scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch’s voice. Neville’s robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard the caretaker enter the trophy room.

“They are in here somewhere,” they heard him mutter, “probably hiding.”

“This way!” He mouthed to the others, and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor.

“Oh dear, no, no, no…”

As he expected, the suits of armor stood at full attention. Now is not the right time to pay their respects to their Little Lord who’s in big sort of trouble.

Fred and George gawked at each other and said, “wicked!”

They could hear Filch now getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run when he tripped, grabbed Ron around the wrist, and the pair toppled right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing noise were enough to wake the whole castle.

“RUN!” Harry yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following— He made a mental note to strangle Neville later once they make it back to their rooms scot-free. He couldn’t believe this boy can be such a walking disaster.

Their group swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor, then another, without any idea where they were or where they were going. Harry’s mind is too preoccupied with fear, his knowledge of the castle’s layouts failed to kick in. Having the twins joining their company wasn’t a great help either. They just went along with the flow and seem to be enjoying themselves on this one night of an adventure.

They ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along with it, and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

“You think we’ve lost him?” Ron panted. He leaned against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering next to him.

“Remind me to kill Malfoy first thing tomorrow morning!” Harry hissed in anger. He took about five more minutes to breathe before he decided to continue their way back to their dormitories. “Let’s go.”

It wasn’t going to be that simple though. They hadn’t gone more than a dozen paces yet when a doorknob rattled, and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

“Shut up, Peeves! Want me to turn you into a booger again?” Harry warned him.

“Oh, Little Lord. Didn’t see you there, but oooh!!! Wandering the castle at midnight. Naughty, naughty, Little Lord, eh? Peeves want to join!!!”

He could feel the headache building up at the back of his neck. Getting on the bloody poltergeist’s good side is as worse as his bad ones. His cooing voice is so loud it echoes within the entire vicinity of Hogwarts.

Their path was blocked by a door as they reached the end of the corridor. Worse, it was locked. They need to get away from Peeves or his noise will end them getting caught.

“This is it!” Ron moaned in despair as they pushed helplessly at the wooden door, “we’re done for! This is the end.”

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves’ cackling noises.

Leaving him with no choice, Harry twisted the bullring in his finger that bore his lordship of the school. It allows him to get through every ward and locks in any rooms including this one.

They heard a click and the door swung open— they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against the wooden panel, listening.

“Which way did they go, Peeves?” Filch’s creaky voice was asking. “Quick, tell me.”

“Say ‘please.’”

“Don’t mess with me, Peeves. Now, where did they go?”

“Shan’t say nothing if you don’t say please, though,” says the poltergeist in his annoying singsong voice.

“All right— please.”

“NOTHING! Hahaha! Told you I wouldn’t say ‘nothing’ if you didn’t say please! Haha! Haaaa!” and they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away while the caretaker was cursing in rage.

Thank goodness for that ghost, Harry whispered to himself. “He thinks this door is locked,” he said to the others. “I think we’ll be okay for now— get off, Neville!” for the boy had been tugging on the sleeve of his bathrobe for the last minute. “What?”

Harry turned around— and saw, quite clearly, what Neville was whimpering all about. For a moment, he was sure he’d walked into a nightmare. This was way too much on top of everything that had happened so far to them.

It turns out, they weren’t in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor itself! And now, they knew why it was forbidden.

“Merlin! That thing is huge!” George exclaims both in fear and awe.

“Bloody hell!!!” Ron’s pretty sure he got himself wet.

Five boys are looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a canine that filled the entire space between ceiling and floor. It has three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three snouts, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren’t already dead yet was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the doorknob— between Filch and death, he’d take Filch.

They fell backward— the young Potter Lord slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else because they didn’t see him anywhere, but they hardly cared— all they wanted to do was put as much distance as possible between them and that monster. They didn’t stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

“Oh, no…” Neville gasped.

Ron choked on his tears and is about to cry soon.

“Bloody Hell! The Fat Lady hasn’t returned yet,” said Fred who is now worried.

“We’re stuck here until she gets back in the morning.” George added as if spending the night outside the Gryffindor common rooms would be an exciting experience for them.”

Sighing, Harry looked at the other boys who all seemed crestfallen. He knew he couldn’t let them here by themselves until Filch catches them. And the fact that this was his idea in the first place, he has no choice but to take them all in.

“Urgh, fine,” he groaned. Bill’s going to kill him once he learned about his adventures. “You can stay in my quarters. This way.”

Fred and George gaped at him, confused, while Ron felt relieved. As for Neville, well, it seems he’d never ever speak again for losing his breath from the whole time they were running.


	14. Hamlet Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is much excited to spend the weekend with his favorite redheads

The Saturday Harry had been waiting for has arrived. He was downright stunned to see Bill waiting in the sitting room when he got back from breakfast, that he lounged himself toward the redhead and pulled him in a tight hug.

“Good to see you too, kiddo.” Bill chuckled in his ear who had his head buried on the base of his neck. “Someone’s being a little baby today, eh?”

“Shut up, m’ not little,” the young Potter Lord retorted, ignoring the tease, deciding he’ll get him for it as soon as he pulls himself together later. Now, he just wanted to wrap himself around Bill like a squid, purring happily on his shoulder like a homesick kid. He couldn’t help but envy Ron for having cool brothers like Charlie and Bill. Not to mention the pair of a menace who were those evil twins.

The older young man affectionately fumbled the boy’s back over his babyish antics. Indeed, he was no longer as small as when he took him out of his abusive relatives. In the last few months, Harry rose to a growth spurt of four feet and nine inches, quite taller than any average kid his age.

“I just missed you guys so much,” said Harry in between the tight hugs.

“It’s only been a week since you started school.” Bill jokingly pointed out. If the boy is this adorable and beautiful with his big doe eyes, he would never stop him from acting like a child.

“Hmm, don’t care. Where’s Charlie?”

“Back in the house,” Bill said. “He’s making lunch.”

Harry smiled, “Brilliant! I can’t wait to see the hamlet.” He was bouncing excitedly. So much for living in a cupboard under the stairs for so many years, having plenty of houses to go home to overwhelmed him until today.

“Same goes here, young man. We just finished completing the repairs yesterday, so you’ll have a great time spending the weekend there,” Said Bill. “Now why don’t you grab your stuff so we can take our leave?”

A flash of a grin and Harry rushed to his room, returning less than a minute later with an overnight bag flung on his shoulder.

“I’ve packed since last night and a few books to go along with my homework.” Harry only brought with him a few sets of clothes he needed for the weekend. “Let’s go!”

He was about to drag him out of the royal apartments when Bill pulled him toward the sitting lounge.

“Not so fast, kid. We’ll take the easier way going there today.”

“Huh?” He tilted his head, but when he realized there are plenty of means to travel in the wizarding world, he blurted an, “oh, right” embarrassingly and gawked at Bill wearing a pouty face. “Are we apparating, then?”

The redhead male shook his head. “Nope. The castle is protected by anti-apparition wards that prevent anyone from apparating in and out. Unless, of course, you learn how to do it, you’ll be the only one who can get through the castle by such means.”

Harry’s brows were raised.

Great! Another privilege.

Though he’s really not in a hurry to learn how to pop up just out of anywhere yet, that might come in handy anytime he needs it.

“We’ll travel there by floo,” Bill told him. “I’ve got McGonagall’s Permission to connect a floo network between the hamlet and your room. We can get access to both houses easier that way.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked. He’d never heard of floo travel before.

Bill pulled him closer next to the fireplace. “Stand here and watch me do this thing,” he said as he stationed the boy before the grate. The older guy then took a handful of ash from a flowerpot nearby and heaved it into the fire. Then he called out, “Charlie Weasley, the Hamlet.”

Harry’s eyes widened because a moment later, the dragon tamer’s head appeared on the green flames.

“Hiya, there, Harry.” Charlie greeted. “Ready for the weekend?”

He turned speechless. The boy thought his voice had left his throat staring at the redhead.

“Alright, mate. We’re stepping in.” Bill told him and his brother’s head disappeared. He then wounded an arm around Harry’s waist as he guided him to the fireplace. “Now, listen Harry. Let’s walk into this thing the same way we did on the platform. Keep your elbows tuck in and don’t fidget. I’ll hold you in my arms to keep you from hitting against anything and don’t panic, okay?”

The boy nodded. He felt nervous. He tried to recall how he and Bill managed to get through the barrier of platform 9 3/4.

He can do this, he thought. There’s no use to be so scared now.

Trying to bear those things in mind, Harry walked to the edge of the fire alongside Bill. He took a deep breath, allowing the flames to engulf him.

A brand-new experience swept him away.

It felt as though he was being sucked down a giant drain. Harry seemed to be spinning very fast — the roaring in his ears was deafening. He tried to keep his eyes open, but the whirl of green flames made him feel sick a little bit. He could feel Bill’s arms hugging him tightly, still spinning and spinning. Now it felt as though cold hands were slapping his face. Squinting through his eyes, he saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond— the bacon sandwiches he ate for breakfast were churning inside him. Harry closed his eyes again wishing it would stop, and then…

He fell face forward, but another pair of arms caught him before he reached the ground.

“Charlie?” Harry looked up to find himself engulfed in the younger Weasley’s warmth.

A smile broke on the man’s gorgeous mouth, “you may wish to be careful in traveling this way.” He warns him. “I myself couldn’t properly set my feet together when stepping out of that grate.”

Bill was next to him who had maintained grace upon landing on solid ground. “You okay, Harry?” He asked the boy a bit worriedly.

“M’ fine,” he groused, though his pallid face told them he was not.

Charlie shoved a hand into the pockets of his apron and pulled out a phial which he handed over to the boy.

“Here, drink this. It’ll take the nauseating feeling away.”

Harry didn’t hesitate. Desperate to keep his head from spinning horrendously, he took the small bottle and raised it to his lips. As soon as the icy liquid touched his tongue, his dizziness had gone. His sight cleared and his balance went back to normal.

“Whoa, that was fast,” he emitted. It felt like he just stepped right out of the shower ready to start the day. “Thanks.”

His grateful smile was reciprocated by the worrywart redhead immediately.

“Not at all, Harrykins.” Charlie ran his hand on his unruly hair ruffling it gently. “Want a tour around?”

“Yeah, sure.” He replied, excited at the offer.

The hamlet was such a lovely house. It reminds Harry of the cottage from the muggle fairy tale, ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’. Inside, it is beautifully decorated with ornate wood carvings of various designs from ancient runes and some magical creatures, but what caught his attention the most was the oak front door which is round with a brass knob with the shape of a griffin’s head.

“This place is awesome,” he said in amazement.

“It is,” Charlie agreed. “Feels like home, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Harry nearly broke into tears.

The house has three bedrooms, with bathrooms in each and their own shower. The upper floor takes them to the attic where a library and study room, as well as the third bedroom, is located. It was cozy despite its small size that Harry felt more comfortable living here than the luxurious vibe in the summer palace.

He loved it here.

“You haven’t seen the garden yet,” Bill smirked. It was the part of the cottage he loved the best.

“We can tour the garden later once we’re done with our meals. It’s almost eleven.” Charlie hinders both boys like a mother of twelve kids. He dragged the two into the kitchen where the brothers hanged out before deciding to fetch Harry from the castle that same morning.

Harry’s face tore into a smile seeing the redhead maneuvering the stove. He couldn’t believe a man who talks about nothing but his beloved dragons knew how to cook.

“It’s mandatory when you’re the son of one Molly Weasley,” said Charlie with a slight frown. “Let alone when you’re one of her eldest. Bill here cooks better, although he’s bossier and I’m the younger brother.”

The redhead in question threw a smirk, who was sitting at the counter next to Harry’s.

He was beaming from ear to ear observing his movements. There’s a homey feeling in his chest as he watches him stirring the contents of a bowl with that adorable dragon print on his white apron that breathes fire occasionally.

“So, how was school?” Charlie asked him all of a sudden.

The question woke him out of his trance.

“Oh, it was fun.” That was when Harry started regaling them with stories of his first week in the castle. He omitted the portion of the incident that happened on Thursday night as planned. He’ll save it for later before Bill dies of a heart attack.

A secret agreement had been instigated among those who were involved not to say anything or if possible, think as if nothing happened, which everyone willingly agreed to. Except perhaps the Weasley twins who had that twinkle in their eyes whenever they met each other across the hallway as if Christmas was moved in September.

**_Flashback_ **

“What do they think they’re doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?” Ron was whining frenetically. “If any dog needs exercise, that one does.”

“You haven’t seen it, or have you?” Fred grumbled.

“Didn’t you notice what it was standing on?”

“The floor?” the youngest redhead suggested. “I wasn’t looking at its feet. I was too preoccupied with its heads— or maybe you didn’t notice, there were three!”

“No, not the floor.”

“It was standing on a trapdoor,” George supplied his twin’s retort.

“Obviously, that dog was guarding something.”

Funny the way they talk when they’re too excited. It was similar to watching a tennis match with both boys finishing each other’s statements.

“That was fun though.” Fred piped in.

“Fun?!” Ron glared at his brother incredulously. “We could all have been killed— or worse, expelled! And all you could say was that was fun?!”

George was looking at him, admonishing. “Now, now, Ronniekins. You know, life at the castle can be dull without life-threatening events…”

“Say, Harrykins, when’s gonna be our next adventure, eh? Count us on, mate!”

Harry could only shake his head in wonderment. Here they are, catching their breaths in relief and exhaustion, yet the scoundrels are looking for more trouble to chase after sooner than they’d hoped.

Never mind that. Their quick observations had given the boy something else to think about.

So the dog was guarding something, huh… what could it be, then? Why is it so important that a dangerous creature needs to be placed to guard it, never mind that they hid it in a castle filled with curious and reckless kids?

**_End of Flashback_ **

Bill folded his arms, scowling as they remained seated at the table after lunch. The bowls and plates with Charlie’s delectable pot roast in it are now sparkling clean. Harry has just finished telling them his story of the dog with the three heads and the oldest Weasley is not at all pleased to hear it.

“How on earth did you come across such a creature in the middle of the night?”

Harry made sure to be careful with his replies, “We got lost on our way back to our rooms.” Well, that wasn’t totally a lie.

“What makes me curious though is why Dumbledore would dare hide something that dangerous within the castle. Not to mention, warning the students about the danger that lies within it. If you have brothers like the twins, when you say it’s forbidden, it’d only make them want to go there further.”

Which is exactly the point. Harry couldn’t agree more with Charlie’s opinion.

“Fred and George think it was guarding something.”

“Guarding something?” The ginger asked bafflingly.

“Right. There’s a trapdoor where it was standing at that time. I speculated whatever it is, it could either be really valuable or dangerous.”

“Or both…” Bill frowned. The creases in his brows said he’s trying to put things together based on the recent events as well as Harry’s accounts. “I think their suspicions made sense.”

“In what way?”

Harry looked at both men. They obviously know something they haven’t told him yet.

The older guy drew his wand summoning a week-old newspaper. It bore the publisher’s name, “The Daily Prophet” on top of it with a moving Black and White Photo of Gringotts Bank showing on the front page.

“This is what I was supposed to be discussing with you to get it out of the way so as not to ruin your weekend,” Bill said grimly. “I had a meeting with the Goblins the other day and what they found out was quite disturbing.” He pulled another long parchment from the pockets of his shirt and showed a long list of items with their corresponding values in them. “It turns out that there was an embezzlement made in some of your accounts in the past ten years.” He ran through all the important items on the list in which Harry may not understand what most of them were, but he knew that they were his property, and someone has been stealing from him unequivocally.

“Instinctively, with the power bestowed in me as your temporary guardian, I have all the items retrieved and requested for a re-audit of your accounts. And as suspected, there are about thousands of gold taken, not including valuable items, plus this certain object here that was supposed to be stolen from one of your vaults a few weeks ago. It was fortunate that the goblins replaced it with a fake one before it went into somebody else’s possession or the consequences would’ve been severe.” Bill pointed a finger at one of the items on the last portion of the list.

Harry scanned through it before moving back to the paper the cursebreaker had him read up earlier. It wrote the headline:

**_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST!_ **

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark Witches or Wizards unknown._

_Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_“We’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,” said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Harry stared open-mouthed at the news.

“Bill,” he flared. “That break-in happened on my birthday! It might’ve been happening while we were there!”

There was no doubt about it. Bill must’ve thought the same thing, or so he did.

“Would’ve been. That was until you told me about the trapdoor guarded by the three-headed dogs in the third-floor corridor today.” He stated. “I have a hunch that the actual robbery occurred after we’ve left the bank.”

“But why would they do that?”

“I think the culprit is trying to lure you in,” Bill said without acting hesitant.

“What?”

“As you can see on the list of your properties that are embezzled, one of them was the Philosopher’s Stone,” says Bill. Charlie, who was sitting across from him, was getting angrier as he went along. “It’s a magical substance that can transform any metal into pure gold, but the most remarkable about it is its ability to produce the Elixir of Life, which can make the drinker immortal. It was created by the famous alchemist, Nicholas Flamel who lent it to your family as a deposit to settle his debts in the past centuries. It was the same magical item that was solely kept in the vault that was said to be broken in.”

“What would the stone have to do with luring Harry in though?” The fuming dragon tamer asked Bill.

The older redhead eyed his brother cynically, “don’t you get it? Charles, we already established that Dumbledore was trying to use Harry since the night his parents were murdered. He made sure all of our little brother’s legal guardians are taken cared of, putting himself in their place, and before Harry’s birthday, he sent Hagrid to take the boy for Merlin knows what his reasons were. That’s why the goblins wanted me to be there first— to stop whatever it is he was planning to do, and if we put the pieces together, it all fits! When Dumbledore realize Harry was gone, he took the stone from the vault and brought it to Hogwarts to be kept in one of the chambers and announce it to the entire school to raise awareness and in Harry’s case, his curiosity.”

Both boys listening to Bill couldn’t believe what they heard. They were already aware that the great man most witches and wizards knew all their lives turned out to be not as great as they thought he were, but to reach the point of placing an innocent child’s life in danger is something they couldn’t have deciphered and it worries them.

“Look, whatever it is that old coot is cooking up for Harrykins here, we don’t know yet. But one thing is for sure, he’s after the kid and he’s up to something no good. We were lucky that the goblins were clever enough that the time Dumbledore requested for the stone to be moved into a separate vault, they added a fake version of it instead, and that’s what that Cerberus is guarding beneath that trap door thinking it’s the real one when he sent someone else to take it to keep it ‘safer.’”

Charlie scowled listening gravely as his brother explained to them the whole thing, “So what do you suggest we have to do, then?” He asked.

Bill took a deep breath, exasperated. “We need to keep our guard for now.” He turns to Harry afterward, “act as if you don’t know but be more careful. I will remain in contact with the goblins, see if they can find anything more that can help us keep you safe from Dumbledore.”

Harry nodded his head obediently.

Then, finally, with a promise they compelled him to keep and a few additional precautions to make, the discussion about the matter was finally dismissed. The rest of the day he spent at the hamlet was less eventful but more enjoyable. Harry squealed in delight when Charlie announced they’ll be having their dessert outside right at the back of the yard.

“Whoa!” Harry gasped. He knew he was right with his judgment to say this was by far the best house he’d ever been to yet. The rear side of the house is as breathtaking as the front porch. There’s a patio ensconced with a set of tables and chairs where they can have their tea whilst watching the good view of the black lake in the far distance. Harry was just as entranced at the small brook streaming right next to the house, chattering amid rocks crowned in verdant moss.

“Do you like it?” The dragon tamer asked whilst handing him a plate of clementine pudding.

“It’s beautiful.” He murmured.

“The patio has been here since Bill and I arrived at the place, but the chairs and tables are something we added, knowing how much you love tea parties in the outdoors.”

Harry smiled over the thoughtful choice they’ve made, “thank you.”

“This house is yours. We want you to feel as comfortable living in it as homey as possible,” said Charlie.

“It’s perfect.”

A grin came out plastering the redhead on the face, “nah, I’d prefer the lawn. You’ve seen the wide fruit and vegetable patch in the yard yet?”

Harry slowly shakes his head.

“Shouldn’t miss it. Why don’t you join me early tomorrow morning and we’d gather some cabbages and carrots to make some good soup out of it?”

The boy beamed at him, saying, “that would be great.”

There was a comfortable silence that followed until after Bill joined them at the veranda. Seeing both men staring at nowhere in a trance, Harry thought it was the perfect timing to break to them the good news.

“I made it to the Quidditch team,” he blurted nonchalantly.

Charlie and Bill gaped at him like pufferfishes, “you what?”

Harry chuckled. It was funny to look at their faces staring as if he was messing with them. “It was unintentional,” he supplied. “But after McGonagall saw me catching Neville’s Remembrall in midair, I thought she’d had me expelled. Said she’ll be taking me to Wood, and I thought Wood was a stick she’ll use to beat me up as punishment. Turns out he’s the captain of the Gryffindor Team.”

Once he’d re-established himself, Charlie was howling with laughter. Bill was no better. He was wheezing his snort as he could’ve imagined Minerva’s reaction over the boy’s horseplay.

“I see, this calls for a greater celebration then,” the older Weasley announced.

And so, the next part of Harry’s stay was filled with Charlie giving him more tips in playing the role as a seeker while Bill adds his own input based on his knowledge of the game.


	15. Quidditch, Brooms, and Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new broomstick and a brand-new adventure are all it needs to complete Harry’s celebration of the All Hallows Eve.

Malfoy couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day after challenging them to a hoaxed wizarding duel. Both boys look tired but perfectly cheerful, even the Longbottom boy as well. Indeed, come Monday of the following week, after slipping out of Bill’s wrath and getting out of chances of being expelled, Harry and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they must agree with the twins in looking forward to having more.

Neville showed the slightest interest in whatever it is that lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All he cared about was never going near the creature again while the Granger girl had been eyeing them suspiciously since the day after the encounter.

Hermione was refusing to speak to both boys, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall, as usual, everyone’s attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when Hedwig swooped in and dropped a letter on top of it.

Harry ripped open the letter first, much to his surprise, because it said:

_ Told you making it to the Quidditch Team deserves a celebration, yes? Since you’re not allowed to drink yet, thought a decent broom would make it up for a congratulatory present. _

_ Go kick their arses, Harrykins! _

_ Bill _

Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he shoved the letter subtly into his pants pocket. Bill just got him a new broom and he wondered what model it is. Luckily, Ron was too busy staring at the package to notice him reading his brother’s missive.

“A Nimbus Two Thousand!” Ron moaned enviously after they both unwrapped it, “I’ve never even touched one.”

Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the tip.

Students began to gather around their table, and to complete Harry’s enjoyment, they found their view blocked by the shadows of Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy hovering above their heads.

“That’s a broomstick,” he said, glaring at Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. “You’ll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren’t allowed them.”

Ron could no longer resist it.

“It’s not just any old broomstick, Malfoy,” he said, “it’s a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you’ve got at home, a Comet Two Sixty?” The younger Weasley boy was grinning mischievously at Harry. “Comets look flashy, but they’re not in the same league as the Nimbus.”

“What would you know about it, Weasley? You couldn’t afford half the handle,” the Malfoy heir snapped back. “I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig.”

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at the blonde boy’s elbow.

“Not arguing, I hope, boys?” He squeaked.

“Potter’s been sent a broomstick, Professor,” said Malfoy quickly.

“Oh, yes, yes, that’s right,” the tiny Charms teacher nodded his head, beaming at Harry. “Professor McGonagall informed me all about the special circumstances, Mr. Potter. And what model is it?”

“A Nimbus Two Thousand, it is, sir,” said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy’s face. “And it’s really thanks to Draco here that I’ve got it,” he added with a smirk.

Harry and Ron were then surrounded by more students, smothering their laughter at the blonde’s obvious rage and confusion.

“Well, it’s true,” the young Potter Lord chortled as some Ravenclaw students approached them to get a good look at the new broom. “If he hadn’t stolen Neville’s Remembrall, I wouldn’t be on the team…”

“So I suppose you think it’s a reward for breaking rules then?” Came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping on the floor, looking disapprovingly at the broom on the table.

“I thought you weren’t speaking to us?” says Harry, sneering.

“Yeah, don’t stop now,” Ron added, “it’s doing us so much good.”

Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It didn’t help that McGonagall heard about him getting a brand-new broomstick that she scheduled him to meet with Oliver Wood on the Quidditch field that night at seven o’clock for his first training. His mind had been drifting off all day straying off to the field where he’d be learning to fly that night. He bolted his dinner without noticing what he was eating, and then rushed upstairs to go get his broom and set off in the dusk outside the castle.

He’d never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands surrounding the pitch so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they’re enormous in size and were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling— he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest grip.

“Hey, Potter, come down!”

Oliver Wood has arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Harry landed next to him.

“Very nice,” said Wood, his eyes glinting. “I see what McGonagall meant… you really are a natural. I’m just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you’ll be joining team practice three times a week.

He opened the crate. There were four different-sized balls in it.

“Right,” the Quidditch captain continued, “Now, Quidditch is easy to understand, even if it’s not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers.”

“Three Chasers,” Harry repeated. Bill and Charlie had already taught him the basics of the game. It’s just that he didn’t want to sound arrogant to show that to Wood. So he paid close attention as the older boy took out a bright red ball about the size of a football.

“This is called the Quaffle,” Wood explained. “The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try to get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of those hoops. Following me so far?”

“The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score,” Harry recited. “So— that’s some sort of basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn’t it?”

“What’s basketball?” There was curiosity on Wood’s face when he asked the kid.

“Never mind,” said Harry quickly.

“Now, there’s another player on each side who’s called the Keeper— I’m keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around the hoops and stop the other team from scoring.”

“So that’s three Chasers, one Keeper,” Harry said again, who was determined to remember everything. What is there to remember them all for? He has Charlie who’d be more than willing to teach him about playing the game anyway, he reminded himself, but Harry just wanted to learn on his own as much as he can. There’s something about this game that caught his interest a lot. “And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. Err, what are they for?” He pointed at the three balls that are left inside the box.

“I’ll show you now,” said Wood. “Take this.”

He handed Harry a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat.

“I’m going to show you what the Bludgers do,” Wood told him. “These two are the Bludgers.”

He showed Harry two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Harry noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.

“Stand back,” his captain warned him. Wood bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.

At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harry’s face. Harry swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and sent it zigzagging away back into the air— it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

“See?” Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. “The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That’s why you have two Beaters on each team— the Weasley twins are ours. It’s their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try to knock them toward the other team. So… think you’ve got all that?”

“Three Chasers try to score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goal posts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team,” Harry reeled off.

“Very good,” said Wood.

“Er— have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?” Harry asked, hoping he sounded offhand.

“Never at Hogwarts. We’ve had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That’s you. And you don’t have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers—”

“—unless they crack my head open.” He said crossly.

“Don’t worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers— I mean, they’re like a pair of human Bludgers themselves anyway.”

Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.

“This,” he was shown the smallest ball of them, “is the Golden Snitch, and it’s the most important ball of the lot. It’s very hard to catch because it’s so fast and difficult to see. It’s the Seeker’s job to catch it. You’ve got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team’s Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That’s why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages— I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep.”

That’s a lot of information for Harry to take in.

“Well, that’s it. Any questions?”

The boy shook his head. He understood what he had to do all right; it was doing it that was going to be the challenge.

“We won’t practice with the Snitch yet,” Wood said, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, “it’s too dark, we might lose it. Let’s try you out with a few of these instead.”

He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch.

Remarkably, he didn’t miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had already fallen, and they could no longer carry on.

“The Quidditch Cup’ll have our name on it this year,” said the captain happily as they trudged back up to the castle. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn’t gone off chasing dragons.”

Grinning, Harry made a mental note to tease his favorite redhead once they’ll be meeting each other soon.

Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, that Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that he’d already been at Hogwarts for two months. The castle may not feel as homey as with the Hamlet where he spent his weekends with Charlie and Bill but living in the magical school was way better than Privet Drive ever had. His lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had managed to master the basics.

On Halloween morning, they woke up to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they’d seen him make Neville’s toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry’s partner was Seamus Finnigan (which was a relief because Neville had been trying to catch his eye). Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn’t spoken to either of them since the day Harry’s broomstick had arrived.

“Now, don’t forget that nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing!” squeaked the tiny professor who was perched on top of his pile of books as usual. “Swish and flick, remember, children. Swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too — never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said ‘s’ instead of ‘f’ and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest.”

It really wasn’t that difficult. It’s just that Seamus got so impatient with his own feather that he prodded it with his wand setting it on fire that Harry had to put it out with his hat.

Ron, at the next table, wasn’t having enough amount of patience in setting his feather to fly either.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

“You’re saying it wrong,” Harry heard Hermione snap. “It’s Wing-ngar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the ‘gar’ nice and long.”

“You do it, then, if you’re so clever,” Ron snarled at her.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, “Wingardium Leviosa!”

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

“Oh, well done!” cried Professor Flitwick, clapping his hands, “everyone, see here, Miss Granger’s done it!”

Ron was in such a very bad mood by the end of the class.

“It’s no wonder no one can stand her,” he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, “she’s a nightmare, honestly.”

Someone knocked into the raven’s shoulder as they hurried past him. Turns out, it was Hermione. Harry caught a glimpse of her face — and was startled to see that she was in tears.”

“I think she heard you.”

“So?” Ron snapped indifferently, although he did look uncomfortable from seeing her walking away as fast as she can. “She must’ve noticed she’s got no friends.”

_ She’s got no friends… _

Harry felt bad for her. He knew the feeling of having no one liking to be friends with. Back in school, before he was accepted at Hogwarts, he had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley and his gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with them out of fear of being singled out just like Harry himself.

Hermione didn’t turn up for the next class and wasn’t seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry and Ron overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls’ bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later, they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione out of their thoughts.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had the start-of-term banquet.

Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore’s chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, “Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know.”

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore’s wand to bring silence.

“Prefects,” he rumbled, “lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately! The teachers and I are heading to the dungeons.”

Percy was in his element.

“Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I’m a prefect!”

“How could a troll get in?” Harry asked as he climbed up the stairs. He remembered Bill’s statement that no outsiders are supposed to easily make their way into the castle with the protective wards and enchantments surrounding the property.

“Don’t ask me, they’re supposed to be really stupid,” said Ron. “Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween Joke.”

It wasn’t what was running inside Harry’s mind though.

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions when something flashed through the young Potter Lord’s head.

_ Hermione was crying in the bathroom and wanted to be left alone. _

“Blimey,” he mumbled to himself.

Without having second thoughts, the boy stepped back out from the throng heading toward the seventh floor and joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way. He slipped down a deserted side of a corridor and hurried off toward the girls’ bathroom. He had just turned a corner when Harry suddenly heard quick footsteps behind him.

“Percy…” he hissed, pulling himself to hide behind a large stone griffin.

Peering around it, however, he saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

Wondering what he’s doing, Harry thought,  _ “why isn’t he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?” _

To his surprise, he’d come to realize the Potions master heading his way toward the third-floor corridor. He wanted to go after him to confirm his suspicion but that’s beside the point. He needed to do what he came all the way here for and that is to warn Hermione Granger of a wandering troll in the lower part of the castle.

Harry stuck his head into the doorway of the said lavatory, searching for any occupants — in this case, of a bushy-haired girl probably crying her heart out all night.

Then, he heard it. Someone was hiding in one of the cubicles, sniffling.

“Hermione?” He called out.

“Go away,” came the response, voice muffled.

He wanted to say, “look, there’s a rogue troll somewhere around here and it’s not safe,” but thought it wasn’t a good idea at the very last minute. So, taking the spare compartment next to the one she was using, Harry decided to talk about something else.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” He told her instead.

The sniffles turned into little sobs coming from the offended girl.

“I know it’s not a happy feeling when people say they don’t like to be friends with you.”

Her sharp tone directing at him shot behind the other side of the stall. “How would you know?”

“Why would I not know?”

Hermione clicked her tongue, sounding annoyed. “You’re Harry Potter-Black, the-boy-who-lived, the last of the Potters, and the future king of witches and wizards. Everybody would want to be friends with you,” She berated spitefully.

Harry’s brows were raised, “how did you know about that thing?”

He could hear the movements of hands wiping her tears, “remember when you told me some books to read with the right information about you?” She asked him.

“You mean the conversation we had on the train, yeah.”

“I read up on those books and found a lot more information about you there.”

Harry chuckled. This girl doesn’t stop until she gets the right detail she wanted— by means of books, that was.

“If that’s the case, you must’ve learned by now that I didn’t grow up in a decent family until I reached eleven.”

He didn’t see it, but he had a good hunch Hermione nodded her head. “It just hurts, you know.” She finally confided. “All my life, no one likes me because I’m such an overbearing know-it-all. I didn’t really mean to boss around. It’s just my way of getting through people to make new friends.”

Harry wanted to tell her that her way of ‘making friends’ actually sucks but decided not to push it. He just stayed there in the cubicle listening to her rants.

“— and I love sharing what I’ve learned with others. People think that I’m boring, that’s why they try to push me away, and Ron’s words this morning just made me feel guilty for doing it again.”

“I’m really sorry for what Ron had said.” He made it a point to make his apology sound more sincere even if they weren’t his own words that offended Hermione Granger. “We should have considered your feelings before making such comments.”

“I’m sorry too, you know, for pushing you guys around,” she conceded. “I couldn’t blame you all. Kids back home where I started school felt the same thing about my behavior.”

There was a deafening silence that followed until Harry decided it’s time to get back to their rooms. There’s a rogue troll on the rampage and the last thing he wanted is to come across it on their way back to the Gryffindor Tower.

“You know, before I got here, students were already sent back to their dorms.” The raven-haired boy informs her. “We should probably go back there now.”

Besides, he thought it would be highly awkward if someone finds him hiding with a girl inside a girls’ bathroom.

There was no answer, but instead, Harry could hear the door from the other side of the cubicle creak open.

“You didn’t have dinner.”

“I’m not really hungry.” Her stomach growled, contradicting her statement.

The next thing they knew, they were roaring with laughter. Harry thought about asking one of the house-elves to send food into the common room later.

“Wait, can you smell something?”

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it— a low grunting and the shuffling of footfalls of gigantic feet. Much to their horror, standing, blocking the doorway of the girls’ bathroom was another horrible sight Harry had seen next to the three-headed dog. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. the smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

Harry and Hermione found themselves shrinking against the wall opposite. The troll was advancing on them, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

“HARRY!!!” Hermione shrieked. She was expecting to be hit by a giant wooden club, but it didn’t happen. Instead, she felt something pulling her navel, her feet leaving the ground. In a few seconds, she felt herself landing on top of someone else, and the moment she opened her eyes, Harry was face-down with her on top of him.

“Wha— what happened?” She asked in wide disbelief. She looked around and saw the portrait of the fat lady scowling at them in bewilderment.

“Well, young lady, we just got ourselves out of trouble,” Harry simpered.

She gaped at him still wondering until he noticed Harry fumbling his ring. Eyes widened, she gasped, “you apparated us in the tower?”

“Well, in a manner of speaking— yes,” Harry admitted sheepishly.

Hermione didn’t know what to say next, although her eyes could tell she knows all about Harry’s little secret.

  
  



	16. Fiasco on the First Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is excited to watch Harry play his first game of Quidditch. What could possibly go wrong?

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake chilled steel. Every morning, the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Charlie was dying to watch his soulmate play his first-ever game, while Bill is contemplating on how to come up with an excuse so as not to divulge their identities as Harry’s guardians once they appear in Hogwarts cheering for their boy.

Hardly anyone had seen the young Potter Lord play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn’t know which was worse— people telling him he’d be brilliant or people telling him they’d be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

He wasn’t sure either whether he should be glad or annoyed now that he had Hermione Granger as a friend. He didn’t really need someone to help him get through all his homework since he’d managed them carefully at a perfect balance along with the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do, but he’d appreciate her gestures of offering help to jot down notes which on some occasions, did save him from missing any of his lessons. On the other hand, her knowledge of his Lordship as well as his power over the magical castle earned her free access to his Royal Apartments, hanging out most of the day in his personal library admiring his enormous collection of books which is five times bigger than the school’s library in exchange for her silence.

Ron wasn’t so happy the next day after Halloween when he saw Harry talking pleasantly with the bushy-haired girl but decided not to give too much of his comment out of it after Harry pointed out that he made him cry yesterday for calling her such a bossy know-it-all, in the first place.

As the day of the match approaches, the raven-haired boy spent most of his days reading the book that Charlie gave him called, Quidditch Through the Ages. It was the same reading article Hermione was fussing them all about the first time they were learning how to fly.

Harry learned that there were seven and hundred ways of committing a Quidditch Foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch Accidents seemed to happen to them: that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Hermione had also warmed up to Ron out of respect for his closeness with Harry who happened to be his friend first. The two have decided to come up with a truce. They bickered less and no longer exchanged snide remarks against each other, plus, their frequent presence in the royal apartments drew them closer, with Fred and George occasionally turning up through a hidden passageway connected to the Gryffindor common room disguised in the form of a full-sized mirror so long as they use the proper password in order to get through.

Harry was somewhat glad of the curfew imposed. His friends have spent most of the day in his study arguing about homework, with Ron attempting to copy Hermione’s which the girl blatantly refused much to the youngest Wesley redhead’s displeasure.

Bill showed up around an hour later to give Harry a complete report of the movements they have been working on along with the goblins. In return, the boy has also shared with his guardian some of the accounts of the incidents that have been going on lately, and one of them is the suspicious actions of their Potions Master.

“So, are you and Charlie gonna watch the game tomorrow?” Harry asked, his eyes hopeful.

The cursebreaker’s brows are furrowed. His face showed confusion in them until suddenly, it broke into a wide grin. “Yes, Harrykins. We wouldn’t miss it for the world. Charlie and I managed to pull some strings. So yes, we will be here to watch you play.”

Harry threw himself forward into Bill’s waiting arms. He was so happy, he almost cried. Bill was the closest person he had next to a parent. Although Charlie was a different case— he couldn’t determine yet. He never had someone in his life who was there to watch him perform in Christmas Pageants. There were many times he could only watch enviously at his peers with their loved ones cheering for them in every game and other school events. While Harry was left in one corner with no one to expect to see him and be proud of his achievements.

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

“Harry, you okay?”

“M’fine,” The boy tried to say in a mouthful of eggs.

It was the first time they saw him losing his etiquette. Ron and Hermione looked quite surprised to see the mountain of food on his plate.

“You’re not really hungry, aren’t you?” The redhead asked as he watched him shove a spoonful of pie into his mouth.

Not that he wasn’t, but Harry realized lately that eating alleviates the stress building up in his mind. He gets preoccupied with his indulgence of the rumbustious taste in his tongue and the house-elves are more than willing to serve him the most sumptuous food whatever he’d want.

Among the others, it was Seamus who had noticed the sudden change in their urbane classmate’s behavior. He recognized Harry’s strange cravings and the enormous number of helpings that he told the others to just leave him be since his body is yet still lithe and somewhat skinny. Never mind they would’ve understood it easier if he told them their friend is doing stress eating actually.

“He needed his strength,” he told them. “After all, Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team first.”

“Thanks, Seamus,” said Harry grimly. The intention was good, though it slammed him on the end part of his ‘encouraging’ words.

Pretty soon, a mild commotion from the entrance caught their focus. Two redheads wearing formal robes came strutting in regally across the Great Hall. Bill and Charlie headed straight toward the Lion’s table where they were accosted immediately by their bewildered brothers. Percy was up on his feet who met them first.

“Charlie, Bill, what are you doing here?” He asked them. Percy looked from their head to toes with a groan of surprise at the way they carry their clothes. “You look dashing.”

The oldest redhead smiled at his younger sibling, “we have some business to deal with in Hogsmeade today, so we decided to drop by.”

The twins were the next to come, greeting them in a happy vibe.

“Bill…”

“… and Charlie.”

“What a pleasant surprise!” They said in their usual intertangling way of conversing, making Harry smile.

“Are you perhaps here to tell us you’ve got promoted from your job?”

Bill fights the urge to smack them both on their skulls. “You could say that. Now, cut it, you two. We heard you’re playing today. So, we’re staying to watch before going our ways for a bit. Are you behaving yourselves, you bloody gits?”

The twins pouted, seemingly offended, “you hurt us.”

“You think we’re menaces.”

Their older brothers roll their eyes in annoyance.

The little chattering they had was halted when their group heard someone behind them clearing his throat. The Weasley siblings turn their heads to see the headmaster standing there with a questioning glint on his eyes hidden beneath that pair of half-moon spectacles he wore.

“Misters Weasley,” said Dumbledore who didn’t sound too pleased. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Bill was prompt to respond to the query, “I have some Gringotts business to speak with you, headmaster, sir. Somewhat important but not too urgent.” He said with a smirk, his voice restrained, pulling a folded piece of parchment from the innards of his cobalt blue jacket.

Harry, who was hidden behind the adults, can only shake his head.

_ Clever deal, _ he said to himself. When the older redhead told him last night, he’d pull some strings, this is not what he’d expected.

Dumbledore read on the letter sent to him by the goblins and eyed the two older Weasleys grimly. “Very well. If you’d follow me to my office. How’d you like a cup of tea?”

Both boys declined the offer. They passed by Harry, winking at him, mouthing the words, “we’ll see you in the stands later after this.”

The boy hid a small smile on his face.

By eleven o’clock, the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch Pitch. Many students had brought binoculars with them. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said, “Potter for President”, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor Lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.

Bill and Charlie joined them in a few minutes. The headmaster was under the impression that the two older Weasleys mainly came here for Gringotts business, making them as honorary guests. However, both boys refused to sit in the top box with an excuse to prefer to be sitting with their siblings which in fact, they just wanted to make sure Harry’s first game is going to be safe from any harm.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

“Okay, men,” he said.

“And women,” added the Chaser Angelina Johnson.

“And women,” Wood agreed. “This is it.”

“The big one,” said Fred Weasley.

“The one we’ve all been waiting for,” George added.

“We know Oliver’s speech by heart,” the other twin chided toward Harry’s side, “we were on the team last year.”

“Shut up, you two,” their team captain snarled at them. “This is the best team Gryffindor’s had in years. We’re going to win. I know it.”

He glared at them all as if to say, “Or else.”

“Right, it’s time. Good luck, all of you.”

Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren’t going to give away, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

“Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you,” she warns them, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing his name for President over the crowd. Bill and Charlie were standing not too far— his heart skipped. He felt braver.

“Mount your brooms, please.”

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

“And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor— what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too—”

“JORDAN!”

“Sorry, Professor.”

The Weasley twins’ friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

“And she’s really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood’s, last year only a reserve— back to Johnson and— no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes— Flint flying like an eagle up there— he’s going to sc— no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Lions take the Quaffle— that’s Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and— OUCH— that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger— Quaffle taken by the Slytherins— that’s Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he’s blocked by a second Bludger— sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can’t tell which— nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes— she’s really flying— dodges a speeding Bludger— the goal posts are ahead. Come on, now, Angelina— Keeper Bletchley dives— misses— GRYFFINDOR SCORES!”

The lions cheering on their stands filled the cold air, with howls and moans coming from the Slytherins.

“Budge up there, move along.”

“Hagrid!”

“Charlie? oh, Bill! Nice ter see yeh here, blokes.”

Both boys squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

“Bin’ watchin’ from me hut,” he said, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, “but it isn’t the same as bein’ in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?”

“Nope,” the dragon tamer responded. “Harry hasn’t had much to do yet.”

“Kept outta trouble, though, that’s sumthin’,” said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

Way up above them, the raven was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood’s game plan.

“Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch,” Wood told him. “We don’t want you attacked before you have to be.”

So when Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once, he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys’ wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball on anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

“All right there, Harry?” he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

“Slytherin in possession,” Lee Jordan was saying, “Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the— wait a minute— was that the Snitch?”

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement, he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it too. Neck and neck, they hurtled toward the Snitch— all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs. He could see the round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead— he put on an extra spurt of speed—

**_WHAM!!!_ **

A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below— Marcus Flint had blocked the Potter Lord’s way on purpose, and Harry’s broom spun off course, the boy holding on for dear life.

“FOUL!” Screamed the lions.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goalposts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, “send him off, ref! That’s a Red Card!”

“What are you talking about, Dean?” Ron asked.

“Red card!” says the boy furiously. “In football, you get shown the red card and you’re out of the game!”

“But this isn’t football, Dean.” The younger redhead reminded him.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean’s side.

“They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air.”

As for Charlie and Bill, both have their worried gazes focused on their kid.

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult to take sides.

“So— after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—”

“Jordan!” Professor McGonagall growled.

“I mean, after that open and revolting foul…”

“Jordan, I’m warning you—”

“All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone. I’m sure, so penalty to the Lions, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue to play, Gryffindor still in possession.”

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He’d never felt anything like that before.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands don’t suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal-posts— he had half a mind to ask Wood to call a time-out— and then he realized that his broom was completely getting out of his control.

He couldn’t turn it. He couldn’t direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

“Billy, look.” Charlie nudged at his brother, pointing up at Harry hovering above the rest of the players. He didn’t see it at first, but there’s this strange feeling of panic that surged through his chest, recognizing those feelings as not his’ but Harry’s.

“Dunno what Harry thinks he’s doing,” Hagrid mumbled next to them. He stared through his binoculars and said, “if I didn’ know better, I’d say he’d lost control of his broom.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with it?” the younger redhead asked his brother worriedly.

“Great Circe—” Bill spat. “Someone’s jinxing his broom! It’s powerful dark magic trying to knock him off from it.”

Charlie was about to run down the stands when his brother stopped him from making any move.

“Let me take care of this.”

The cursebreaker fumbled his wand in his holster muttering the countercurse.

“Merlin forbid. I’ll cast my Cruciatus on them whoever tried to harm my baby!”

They noticed Hermione bolting away after having an argument with Ron and disappeared.

Bill’s enchantment seemed to have worked though. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back onto his broom.

“Neville, you can now look!” Ron said. The Longbottom boy had been sobbing into Hagrid’s jacket for the last five minutes.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick— he hit the field on all fours— coughed, and something gold fell into his hand.

“I’ve got the Snitch!” he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion. Despite Marcus Flint howls of protest twenty minutes later, insisting ‘swallowing’ it doesn’t qualify as catching it, Lee Jordan still happily yelled the results— Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

  
  



	17. Home For The Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is looking forward to his first Christmas with his new family.

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in quite a few feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban.

Luckily, Harry escaped McGonagall’s wrath when one of the statues hid him from sight before he, too, would’ve been caught. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off once more.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Royal Apartments, the Gryffindor common room, as well as the Great Hall had roaring fires in their hearth, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape’s classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

“I do feel sorry,” said Draco Malfoy one Potions class, “for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.”

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke who looked up after hearing his words. Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling under their breaths. He was measuring out a powdered spine of lionfish when he sneered, making sure nobody else would hear what he’s about to tell them.

“I have no idea where you heard such a thing, Blondie.” He said, “though you might as well add me to your shopping list. You may be needing to get some for me before Christmas eve.”

Shocked, confused, the Malfoy heir creases his brows. He wanted to tell the young Potter Lord to piss off but couldn’t find the right words to put them all together. He had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker soon. Then he’d realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So, Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

If he only knew how close to large Harry’s family’ is. The raven was equally disturbed as soon as he saw the git’s name on the list of the members whom he had to be meeting for Christmas dinner.

“How on earth did Blondie and I become related?” He was frantically whining as soon as he finished reading the Black Family Tree that Bill handed him over one Saturday evening. He was running through a few of the family records under his lordships and came across Malfoy’s name in one of the lists.

Bill shrugged his shoulders who looked seemingly entertained. “Well, according to the Black genealogy, you and the Malfoys are related through Dorea Black who was an aunt of Narcissa Black and later became Narcissa Malfoy, also known as Drakey’s mum”.

Harry plopped back to his chair, frustrated. “And you said I have to meet them all for a family event?”

His redhead of a guardian smirked who then replied, saying, “it is your duty as head of the house to meet all of them at least once in every six months. That is to know their needs and determine their state since your job is to provide for them in the first place.”

Harry groaned. When he was told he was to head more than a dozen houses and estates, this was not properly explained. And right now, it is driving him insane.

“The holidays will be one great opportunity to gather your household. As this will be the first time you will be meeting them, you will be formally introduced. Then, the consecutive meetings will be held on actual discussions where we are to address their concerns one after another.”

The young raven sighed. He’s not so sure now whether to look forward to the coming holidays or not.

As rumors said, it was true Harry wouldn’t be going back to Privet Drive for Christmas eve. Not that he’s returning there ever again anyway. However, Bill suggested they spend their holidays in the main residence— the Potter Manor, for his first appearance before his vast holdings.

This didn’t surprise McGonagall though. Contrary to the headmaster’s expectation that the young Potter Lord would prefer staying at the castle to spend his Christmas with his friends, the kind witch was well-informed of their plans, thanks to Bill’s frequent messages. Thus, she gave a small smile when Harry refused as she approached the young man when she came around making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays.

On the other hand, Charlie seems to be having a small problem of his own. Well, since it’s concerning their parents, Bill is also involved.

“What’s with the long face?” Bill asked when the younger man lazily plunk himself into the chair by the kitchen table as they were about to have dinner.

“Mum got frantic when I told her I couldn’t have her, and Dad to come to Romania this year,” said the dragon tamer gloomily.

Bill eyed his brother sympathetically, “She was also sulking when I declined her invitation to stay at the Burrow for Christmas this year. Must be why she decided to take her ‘broken heart’ and dad to your place instead and you pushed her away.”

“I don’t think she’ll forgive us for ditching her.”

“She’ll come around,” he reassured his brother, though Bill didn’t sound so confident himself. “We need to set our priorities straight, and this time, it’s Harry we need to think first. Once we get through all of these, once it’s safe to tell them, Mum can be more forgiving. She’ll probably do the same thing if the situation lands on her— like what had happened to us when we took guardianship of our Little Harry back then.”

Charlie nodded his head. Bill was right. He just couldn’t bear Molly’s over-fussiness sometimes. It’s driving him mad.

The day before they’d left, Harry and Ron found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing noise told them that Hagrid was behind it.

“Hi, Hagrid, want any help?” Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

“Nah, I’m all right, thanks, Ron.”

“Would you mind moving out of the way?” came Malfoy’s cold drawl from behind them. “Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be a gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts I suppose— that hut of Hagrid’s must seem like a palace compared to what your family’s used to though.”

Ron dived at the blonde boy just as Snape came up the stairs.

“WEASLEY!”

He let go of Malfoy’s robes right away.

“He was provoked, Professor Snape,” said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. “Malfoy was insultin’ his family.”

“Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,” Snape replied silkily. “Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn’t more. Move along now, all of you.”

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.

“I’ll get him,” Ron said, grinding his teeth at the blonde boy’s back, “one of these days, I’ll get him—”

“Just leave them for now,” Harry advised. “It wouldn’t be worth it, though you can have my word, you’ll get your revenge before this year ends.” He promised.

“Come on, cheer up, it’s nearly Christmas,” said Hagrid. “Tell yeh what, come with me an’ see the Great Hall, looks a treat.”

So, the three of them followed the half-giant man and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

“Ah, Hagrid, the last tree— put it in the far corner, would you?”

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

“How many days you got left until your holidays?” Hagrid asked them.

“Just one,” said Harry.

The gamekeeper looked at him, frowning. “Still makes me wonder where you’re going home to if not to those hideous muggles.”

He beamed at him, smirking, “it’s a secret.”

Everyone was busy jostling around the scarlet steam engine, eager to get a good spot in one of the compartments before the Hogwarts express takes them back to London at exactly 11 AM. More than half of the students are going home this year for the holidays— the family of redheads included. And of course, Harry Potter, whom a lot of people have not suspected.

Ron said that the original plan was to stay at Hogwarts since their mum and dad wanted to visit their brother, Charlie in Romania. Apparently, that did not happen. Harry couldn’t help but feel guilty as he knows the reason behind the changes. Regardless, this was already explained to him, of whom, after what felt like hours of talking and explaining, and with Bill’s help, both men made him understand that he has nothing to worry about— that it’s fine to think of himself first before worrying about the others.

Their group had managed to secure a single compartment to themselves— that makes the occupants consisting of Harry, Ron, Hermione Granger, Neville, and the twins who made the trip livelier by playing exploding snap while Harry buried himself to reading some paperwork about the list of families he needed to meet in the next few days. He was only interrupted when the youngest Weasley hounded him to play wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron’s set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family— in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren’t a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn’t trust him at all. He wasn’t a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. “Don’t send me there, can’t you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him.”

As the train arrived at the station, everyone fought their way through the crowd to meet their awaiting loved ones. He hadn’t gotten that close yet, but Harry had already spotted the two redheads in the same outfits they wore when they sent him off to school several months had passed.

The glamour charm they applied among themselves must be so powerful (Charlie and Bill turned their hair copper from fiery red), it would be impossible for any of their family members to recognize them.

“Whoa mate, are those your bodyguards?” Ron gasped as soon as he gawked openly at the two hugely built copperheads towering before them.

“Yup”, says Harry with great pride. He was ushered by both blokes out of the platform, away from their families who were all eyeing them suspiciously.

“Head straight, and don’t look back,” Bill warns his brother through gritted teeth. Harry thought the rule does not include him, so he whirls around and gives his friends a wave, bidding them goodbye.

Out of the places he had visited, Harry thought the Summer Palace was by far, the best in the entirety of his holdings.

He was wrong.

Apparently, as Bill ushered him to the Potter Manor’s doors, he was completely lost. He must’ve gotten into the wrong house, he thought. There’s no way this Chateau, or palace, or whatever you call it could be his family’s house. Never mind that this entire estate has put the Versailles to shame, located in London and no one seemed to have heard of it.

“The Manor was left unoccupied for more than a decade,” Bill explained to him. “Cooper, the house-elf who manned the property, said your parents only stayed here for a couple of months after you were born. For some reason, they were urged to move into Godric’s Hollow where they were told it was ‘safer’, when in fact, the manor supposedly has the strongest magical fortifications there is ever known in England.”

Harry frowned, he paid close attention to Bill’s words and asked, “did they find out who suggested they move there?”

“I think you already know the answer,” said the man grimly.

His fists clenched. Harry was hating the old coot as it gets longer than the hatred he felt for Snape and even Malfoy, the ferret.

As they went further along, the boy noticed the decorations the house-elves have placed in the entrance hall. Curtains of velvet in Christmas colors covered the balusters and windows with every blings and wreath attached to them.

Harry looked around. He was almost sure the antechamber is as huge as the Hogwarts Great Hall itself. Twelve towering Christmas trees are beautifully aligned in two rows facing each other in different themes and levels. He also noticed the numerous portraits on the wall of people with the same dark and unruly hair as his’. All of them, waving, smiling at him. Every corner is gilded with gold, and what struck his attention the most, was the three massive chandeliers on the ceiling with thousands of candles lighting the dimness of the evening.

Then, suddenly, Cooper appeared. His ears are flapping, and his eyes are widening, greeting him.

“Master Harry Potter, sir, we house-elves are so happy to have you in the family manor.” The house-elf squeaked in delight with more than dozens of other house-elves eyeing their Little Lord from behind.

“I am equally pleased, Cooper,” came Harry’s reply. “This place is magnificent.”

“We glad you like it, sir.” The rest are beaming with glee upon hearing his compliment.

Harry was pouting all the way through dinner. He was throwing deadly glances at the older redhead whilst helping himself to a steaming bowl of stewed fish.

“What has the poor dish did to offend you like this, Harry?” Bill asked him playfully. “Don’t you like it?”

Harry blinked his eyes— didn’t know his reaction would be noticed by both guys. “Nuttin’. I just don’t like the fact that you made me host a bloody ball,” he admitted skulkingly.

A smirk twitches out of the redhead’s lips, “just because you have to do it, doesn’t mean you have to like it,” he said.

Another deathly glare from Harry darted his way, but in the end, gave it away. “I suppose you’re right,” he slumped defeatedly against the back of his chair.

Next to him, Charlie’s hand wounded its way to hold his’, which immediately took the lead off his chest in an eyeblink.

“Don’t worry, little prince,” he tells him, his voice reassuring. “Bill and I are here. You don’t have to be on your own in dealing with all these things.”

Somehow, it made him smile. Charlie has his way with words that always worked through Harry’s heart.

“Hey, hey. That’s unfair,” Bill protested, growling. “So, Charlie just had to hold your hand and you’re giving in? Oh, my Harrykins. I’m hurt.”

The boy retaliates by sporting a leering face. “Well, since I’m still annoyed with the fact that I’m facing such an ordeal, facing random people and I’d say I’m blaming it on you, I’ll let you suffer a bit longer.”

A pouting older redhead bats his eyelashes. His brother across the table had begun to chuckle horrendously at his funny reaction.

_“Just because you have to do it, doesn’t mean you have to like it.”_ Bill’s words kept boggling his mind a few hours later.

He’s got a point though. Holding such an important responsibility may not be that pleasurable, however, given his sworn duty to the numerous families that depend on his authority from now on, he must take it seriously no matter how it’d turn.

It’s just that… he’s too nervous about it. Panicky even.

Harry couldn’t find himself capable of managing not one— but ten houses! How is he supposed to handle all of that, eh?!

The troubled young man was walking along the corridors going to the east wing side of the manor when a mocking drawl took him out of his reverie.

“Say, Prongs, look!”

Another voice can be heard out of nowhere, although this one sounds quite jovial, unlike the other, “what is it, Padfoot?”

“The little twit who just passed by. Looks like a funny guy. Got your looks and everything. Even your unruly hair— HA! Didn’t know such a hairstyle would come out trendy nowadays,” it snorted.

Harry whirls around to find out where the voices had come from.

There. Attached to a wall was a portrait of four teenagers led by a tall well-built bloke wearing a haughty look on his face. Next to him was a guy of thinner built, with hazel eyes and that noticeable messy hair. It would’ve been simpler if Harry describes him as a man who looked just like him, though a little bit older. He had an arm resting on top of the other guy’s shoulder sporting a cocky grin.

The young man on his right has a pale face with some premature lines on the corner of his lip. He got light brown hair and his clothing looked shabbier than the rest of them.

Lastly, on their other side was a very short man with grubby skin. He got small watery eyes and a pointed nose. He looked somewhat laid-back compared to the other four, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying making muddled remarks against the boy.

“D— Dad?” Harry stammered. He didn’t need to find out who the raven-haired man was, judging by their very close resemblance. Well, except for the eyes since his own have mimed the emeralds.

“Hey, hey, hey. Watch it, kid. Who’re you calling dad?” said man admonishes. He looked scandalized. So were the others.

Well, it was no surprise. The portrait must’ve been painted when the boys were still studying in their first few years back in Hogwarts.

“You had a son? Merlin’s tits, Prongs! Why didn’t you tell us you shagged a bird somewhere and left her a spawn?” The tall fella with the long and dark hair looked hurt, chastising the bloke.

“I did not!” the one they call Prongs yelled in retort.

“Cut it now, you idiots.” This time, it’s the brown-haired lad who gave his remark, saying, “look closely. If you notice his eyes, I’d say you’ve had him with that Evans girl, you, sly old dog.”

The rest of the boys created annoying noises pestering their friend, seeing the obvious. While the jet-black-haired man in the portrait was blushing fiery red.

Harry’s eyes watered. The sight of his father in his younger self felt like a dagger driven into his chest. He was both happy and downhearted like a dam was set to loose that he started to cry inescapably not missing the moment to stare at him.

The first guy— Padfoot, as he was called threw reproachful glances, growling, “oh, Great! Now, we’ve done it,” he tutted. “We haven’t done any prank to the kid yet and you already made him cry.” He tries to sound like an authoritative person scolding the other guys.

“What did I do? I’m innocent!” said man defended himself.

The boy wrung his hands in panic.

“I’m— I’m sorry,” poor Harry was still sobbing. “It’s not your fault. You just reminded me of someone I knew.” He told them with a horribly forceful grin, his whole body shaking.

“Harry?”

Everyone looked up to find the younger redhead coming their way. If not for his glaring stares directed against them, the four boys would’ve sought his advice on how to dress “cool” like that of himself.

“What’s wrong?” He asks the kid, sounding worried.

“I’m okay. It’s just—”

“We’re innocent,” said Padfoot, turning the other way.

“We didn’t do anything to him.” Prongs added.

Charlie looked at the portrait and winced. So, they have finally met their ‘little friend’. He knew this would be Harry’s reaction once he saw them. So he reached a hand rubbing the kid’s back to make him feel less upset.

“I wouldn’t be so sure if you’d ask me,” the young man drawled facetiously. “Knowing you four and what you could do in a span of a few days…”

All the other men looked flabbergasted. They began talking in alternates, finishing each other’s sentences.

“We would never!”

“— ever!”

“Do such a thing…”

“Unless you count those things we did under your noses,” one of them pointed.

Merlin forbid! Charlie prayed solemnly. He could only hope the twins would never come across these menaces.

“Harry, how would you like to go to your room now? It’s late. I know you’re tired from the long trip back in the train,” he suggested, though it looked more like he wanted to take him out of there before he got too overwhelmed from stress.

The boy nodded. He allowed Charlie to escort him to the east wing without any protest. Behind them, they could still hear the men arguing among themselves or perhaps, teasing Prongs about having a son with a feisty young redhead.

“I’m sorry those boys have made you feel upset.” The dragon-tamer apologizes. “We found their portrait when we were doing some audits on your vaults. Went off causing mayhem as soon as we got them here, settled.”

Harry smiled. Truth is, he had only gotten a bit surprised. He never had a single photo of his old man, let alone the idea of how he looked like when he was younger. The closest imagery he had was from those people who kept telling him how he looked much like his dad. That is why the moment he saw Prongs and saw how he fitted everyone’s description of James, he wanted to jump right into the portrait and pull the man into an embrace.

“You mean to say, that wasn’t their actual portrait?” The boy asked in bewilderment.

“Nope,” Charlie answered. “I remember Bill and I placed it in one of the rooms for your Christmas present. The thing is, we didn’t know those gits can move around whichever frame they wanted. We’ve been hearing loads of complaints from the others since the day we brought it here.” The man couldn’t help but smile after seeing Harry’s face brightening up a bit.

“Well, I don’t mind seeing them again in the next couple of days.” He admitted.

Charlie’s brows were raised. The way Harry said it, he could only imagine the trouble the boy and those four can cause mayhem. The manor may not survive it, let alone if those gits could sneak their way into the castle.

That would be a nightmare.

And so, as he shakes his head, the young dragon tamer draws an amused grin on his lip while they retire themselves for the evening.

As if there’s anything he could do to stop the kid from his schemings.

Besides, for as long as it would make Harry happy, he’s fine with it.

That is all that matters to him anyway.


End file.
